The Way Back to You
by Alexandri
Summary: An alternative to "Starting Over" and "We've Only Just Begun." What happens to Adam and Joan when he decides to go away to school?
1. A Different Decision

A/N: I know, I know. I'm supposed to be working on my Grace/Luke fic and I am. I'm researching it. Same with a story I'd been thinking of doing about Kevin and Rebecca because there just don't seem to be many, if any, about Kevin and his love life. Then there are the other stories that I have in various stages. I think I'm going to end up juggling four or five stories at some point. Anyway, this chapter is finished so I'm posting it.

Though this is rated for future chapters, I'm writing this without an outline and we've already seen that my idea of racy is a little underrated. We'll see. Anyway, here's yet another Joan/Adam fic from yours truly. They won't leave me alone even though I kind of want to move on to the others. Sorry. I'm babbling. I'll shut up now. Enjoy. Please. Alexandri

* * *

The cool April breeze ruffled Joan Girardi's long, chestnut hair. She shoved it out of her eyes and stared up at the darkening sky. Stars twinkled down at her, making her wish she could join them in their merry nocturnal dance—carefree in the present, without a worry about the future. Her thoughts were consumed with the future, specifically the moment five months from now when she and her boyfriend, Adam Rove, would go away to different schools. He hadn't told her which school he'd chosen, but she figured it was between NYU and Rhode Island School of Design. After all, New York was the center of the American art world and even she had heard of Rhode Island School of Design.

More stars appeared as Joan forced her thoughts into the present. As of three o'clock that afternoon, they were on Spring Break. She and her best friend Grace Polk planned to take a day trip to the University of Maryland campus to check it out. That should be fun, but Adam wasn't going. The melancholia that had drawn Joan to the park playground in the first place tugged at her again. "Stop it," she told herself, disgusted with her own self-pity.

"Stop what?"

Joan twisted in her swing seat to see Adam coming up behind her. For a moment, she merely watched him stroll toward her. She knew he wasn't aware of it but, even huddled in his hoodie to ward off the early spring chill, Adam walked with a sort of casual, almost sensual grace that belied the naïve boyishness of his face. He came to stop directly behind her and, grabbing the chains of her swing, leaned down to kiss her. Stretching into his kiss, Joan stroked her hand down his smooth, flushed cheek. "What are you doing here?" she asked as he lifted his head.

"Looking for you." Adam sat in the swing next to hers. "You didn't answer my question."

She stared at him, drawing a blank. The sight of him had driven everything else out of her mind including his question. "I'm sorry. I don't remember what you asked."

"You said 'stop it' and I said 'stop what.'" Adam peered into Joan's face. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she said, dismissing her pensive mood. "I'm just tired, I think. Good thing we don't have school next week, huh?" She forced herself to smile.

He just gave a pointed look. Her act hadn't fooled him in the least, but he wouldn't push even though she still hadn't answered his question. It was one of the things she loved most about him—his sensitivity with her needs. Now, as he took her hand in his, she wondered how she was going to get through four years of college without him. Grace was a great friend, her best girl friend, but she kept Joan grounded in reality. Adam helped her stay emotionally even. He calmed and soothed her when no one else could. Joan didn't know how she would have gotten through the last two years of high school if it weren't for her best friends.

"Jane?" Adam's worried voice broke through her reverie.

As always, a little ripple of pleasure rolled through her stomach at his use of his personal nickname for her. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

If she told him what she was thinking, she might influence his decision about college. She was determined not to do that. Adam owed it to himself to choose the best school to guide him toward a professional fine arts career. This was a turning point for him and, no matter how hard it was, she was not going to be selfish. She nodded and summoned another smile. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I missed you," he said, swinging slightly.

"We were just together three hours ago," she replied.

He shrugged. "So?"

A pleased grin lit up Joan's face. Adam returned it. "That's better."

Rolling her eyes, Joan took his hand and squeezed it. "So why were you looking for me, really?"

"I need to tell you something."

Her smile slipped a little at his serious tone. "I'm listening."

"I've decided which school I'm going to," he announced, his eyes on their joined hands. "I'm going to New York University." Adam looked up into Joan's eyes. "You told me not to include you in my decision and I didn't."

Even though she'd been prepared for the news, Joan still felt like she'd been blindsided. She looked down at the free hand in her lap and willed her breath back and forth past the sudden tightness in her chest. Tears stung the back of her eyes, fighting to make their existence known, but she managed to contain them. When she was sure she could speak without breaking down, she whispered, "It's a great school."

"Yeah," Adam agreed quietly.

"When does school start?" She wanted to know how much time they had left before she'd have to say good-bye, even if it was months away.

"Orientation starts August twenty-second."

Her emotions careening crazily inside her, Joan dropped her eyes to their joined hands. A part of her knew that he'd made a good choice, a wise choice. This was his future and she wanted the best for him. NYU was a wonderful school. Adam would hone his raw talent for sculpture into a formidable blend of skill and sensitive expression. But another part of her was terrified. How was she going to get along with him? He had become such an important part of her life in past two years she couldn't imagine her life without him in it.

"Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Say something."

"Like what?" she asked, her gaze still glued to her lap.

They were swinging together now, which was a strange feat since they were facing in opposite directions. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me how you feel about this."

She was thinking that she'd give anything if he'd only go to school with her and Grace. She felt desperation and fear at the idea of not seeing him every day, of not being able to share her life with him the way she had for the last two years. She thought and felt so many things that she couldn't organize them all. But mostly she felt sad. And she couldn't tell him. She couldn't put this burden on him. Tentatively, hoping that her eyes didn't betray the depth and variety of her feelings, Joan raised her eyes to his and gave him a wobbly smile. "I'm going to miss you."

"I won't be far, Jane."

"I know, but you won't be around every day." She saw her sadness mirrored in his eyes and looked away. "How are we . . . are we . . . what about us?"

"We'll make it work," he answered, his voice full of conviction she knew he didn't feel.

"How?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know." He turned his eyes to their clasped hands. "I don't know, but we'll figure something out. We have to."

Joan nodded. They would because they had to. She heard adults say things like that all the time. They do things and make things happen because there isn't another choice. So would they. "At least we'll still have the summer together."

"And tonight," he whispered. "We still have tonight."

"Yeah. Who needs tomorrow?" She laughed even as a little voice inside her said _I do_.

They leaned toward each other then, gently tugging the other close. His lips brushed over hers before settling. It was a warm kiss, dark with hope and need and the fear that fate, which hadn't necessarily befriended either of them, would be cruel and they would not figure something out. When the kiss finally ended, they let the sounds of the night envelope them as they swung. Eventually, Joan broke the silence. "Hey, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"Grace and I were planning a day trip to the UMD on Monday. You know, scope out the campus and such. You want to come?"

Getting up, Adam stood behind her and pushed her swing. After he'd pushed her for a little while, he said, "I'd like that."


	2. The Passionate Goodbye

A/N: Chapter two--not quite what I was going for, but I think it works. It's a little on the melodramatic side and for that I apologize. Tell me if you think this is too unrealistic or whatever. This is virgin territory for me.

As for questions, this is an entirely different storyline than my other two big fics. Think of this like the second storyline in _Sliding Doors_ with Gwyneth Paltrow. Also, I should warn you now before you get too involved in this fic that you'll probably think I've lost my mind at points and you may even be appalled at the choices Joan and Adam make and at the things that happen to them. But rest assured, I am a shipper. That's it for now. Enjoy. Alexandri

* * *

Quiet reigned in the clearing. Stately trees circled it. The early evening sun slanted its cooling light across everything. Adam and Joan sat in the bed of his truck in sun-dappled shade, watching squirrels and birds frolic in the waning light. It was the first time since school ended that they had been able to just sit and be together. Joan had had the brilliant idea to go on a cross-country road trip that summer. She said it was divine inspiration. Whatever it was, they—plus Grace and Luke—had just gotten back to Arcadia two days ago and now Adam was set to leave for New York tomorrow.

"I wish this moment could last forever," Joan whispered.

"I know what you mean."

She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Adam smiled; he loved the way Joan always tried to get as close to him as she could. Any minute now, she'd draped her legs over his. Soon she'd be sitting in his lap, cuddled against his chest. He'd hold her and file away the feel of her in his arms; her warm, autumn scent; the way her breath and lips fluttered against the side of his neck; the caress of her silken hair sliding over his hands and arms. All too soon, it would be time to get in the truck and rejoin the world, say his goodbyes, and begin the process of missing Joan although she was just a few streets away.

Running his hand along her arm, he brushed his cheek over her hair and decided to savor the present. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough.

"What time do you leave?"

"Five."

"In the morning?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," he answered. He restrained a grin as he thought of Joan's trip-long resistance to getting up before nine o'clock. An early bird she was not. "If we make good time, we should be able to get there by nine, nine-thirty."

"I wish you didn't have to go at all," she sighed wistfully. As soon as she said the words, her head popped up and she stared at him, horrified. "I'm so sorry."

"Jane, it's okay."

But she wasn't listening. Shaking her head vehemently, she said, "I shouldn't have said that. It's hard enough as it is. I shouldn't have said that."

Adam took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Jane, it's okay. You think I didn't already know how you feel?" He paused and smiled, hoping to ease the guilt he saw lingering in her eyes. "I feel that way, too. I don't want to leave you anymore than you want me to."

Joan looked only slightly mollified so he kissed her, hoping it would at least take her mind off of tomorrow. She leaned into his kiss, one hand resting on his chest, before abruptly pulling back. She scooted away from him and stared off in the opposite direction. He knew instantly that she was crying and that she was trying to hide it from him.

He turned toward her and gathered her in his arms, her back touching his chest and his legs on either side of hers. He gave her a tight, brief hug and kissed her ear. "Jane."

She sniffed and cried harder. "I'm sorry, Adam. I tried not to do this. It just makes everything worse, but I can't help it." Combing her fingertips through the hair on his arms, Joan leaned into him, unconsciously seeking comfort. "I miss you. You're not even gone yet and I already miss you."

"It won't be that bad, Jane," he said a little too brightly. This was tearing him apart as much as her. "We'll talk and visit each other. And there's always email."

"I know, but it's not the same." Joan looked up at him, a bittersweet smile on her lips as she wiped away her tears. "It's not this. It's not you holding me and being there to share the everyday things. It's not kissing you."

"Yeah."

Adam didn't know how long they sat, silent, attempting to absorb a little of each other's essence to carry them through until the next time they were together.

Finally, Joan broke the silence. "What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "Seven-fifteen."

"How much time do we have?"

"Until dark. Another hour maybe."

Grabbing the side of the truck, Joan pulled herself up and offered him a hand. When he was standing too, she said, "Well, we've wasted enough time being sad. So let's not do that anymore. Let's enjoy the next hour."

"What do you have in mind?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips over his. "That for starters."

"Nice." He slipped his arms around her waist as she giggled.

"And maybe a little of this," she murmured as she rose on tiptoe and planted her mouth firmly on his. Pressing against him, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth. Groaning, Adam tightened his hold on her and curled a hand around the back of her neck. Joan nipped his lip before darting her tongue in his mouth to stroke his tongue. He rewarded her by sitting her on top of the cab. She wound her legs so firmly around his waist that his rapidly growing arousal pushed against her center.

Adam pulled back, his breathing ragged, and blinked to clear his vision. He found Joan staring back at him with passion-fogged eyes. He tried to pull back a little more, but she wouldn't loosen her hold on him. "Jane?" he asked, unsure of what this meant.

A tiny smile curved her lips as she tugged him back to her. She claimed his lips in a kiss that was just as hot and eager as the last one but not as frenzied. She took her time with the kiss, thoroughly exploring his mouth, demanding that he respond in kind. Then her hips pushed against his and all attempts at rational thought ceased. He grabbed her to him, kissing her with all of the desire he usually kept restrained. He devoured her, making Joan whimper as he lowered her on the cab's hood.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She arched into his touch as he skimmed his hand up her bare thigh, over her khaki-clad hip and under her camisole to caress her satiny stomach. Gasping, Joan shivered while Adam licked and nibbled his way across her collarbone. Her hands fisted in his hair when he kissed the top of each breast, his fingers grazing their undersides. Adam was poised to suck her hardened, shirt-covered nipple into his mouth when he realized what he was doing. He was mindlessly ravishing his girlfriend on the roof of his truck. With an almost superhuman effort, Adam pried Joan's legs from around his waist and sat on one of the humps at the opposite end of the bed.

"Adam?"

His entire body clenched at the sound of her husky voice. He swallowed back his desire. "We can't, Jane."

"Why not?"

"To begin with, I'm not going to take you on the top of my truck."

"It doesn't have to be on top of the truck."

He shook his head. "That's not the point. We're waiting . . ."

"We've waited."

"For a reason," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "It's supposed to be special."

"As long as it's with you, it'll be special."

Hearing her say that made pleasure burst in his heart, but he said, "So a dark, slimy back alley would be all right with you as long as it was with me?"

"Okay, you're right. I would not be happy with that. But, Adam, look at where we are. It's beautiful here."

Adam swept his eyes around the clearing, knowing she was right. Then he looked at her and wished he hadn't. Joan's hair was completely tousled. Her already plump lips were swollen and red. Her shirt had bunched up, exposing her navel. But it was the look in her eyes that made the sight of her the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. She looked as if she'd like nothing better than to straddle his lap and finish what she'd started. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. How was he supposed to be rational and responsible when she looked like that?

"Adam?"

He heard her start toward him and he raised his hand to stop her. "Stay over there. I'm okay." He could almost see her trying not to laugh, but he knew he was right. This wasn't something they should do on a whim. They had to be sure this was the right time. "I want you, Jane."

"Then what's the problem?"

"We're both kind of emotional, what with me leaving tomorrow. Our first time should be more than a reaction to that."

"Is that what you think this is?" She gave a little laugh as if his misconception was particularly amusing. "Believe me, that's not what this is."

"None of that matters, Jane."

"Why not?" she asked, clearly exasperated.

He sighed and stared at his hands. "Because I don't have any protection," he admitted.

He thought that was the end of the discussion and was thankful for it. Seeing her so disheveled was hard enough. How much harder would it be to resist her if he had something? He was certain she hadn't thought this through. The last thing he wanted was for her to resent him because they rashly decided to have sex.

Joan cleared her throat. Adam looked up to find her staring sheepishly at her bare toes, a foil-wrapped condom held between her fingers. His mind went blank.

When he didn't say anything, she glanced at him through her lashes. "I took it from Kevin's medicine cabinet when no one was home," she explained.

"Why?" he asked when he found his voice. It was the only coherent thing he could think of.

"Because I spent the whole summer holding back when all I really wanted was to go forward."

Adam ran his fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to do now?

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "You're thinking that this is just my hormones talking, and maybe you're right. But they've been saying the same thing for months now."

"So you were planning to have sex with me tonight?" he asked, confusion apparent in his eyes as he looked at her.

She shook her head and smiled. "No. I wanted to be prepared, just in case something happened. Like you said, we're both pretty emotional, this being goodbye and all."

"I'm just going to school, Jane. I'm not going to war or out of the country."

"But you're still leaving me," she said so earnestly that his heart skipped a beat. "This is still goodbye and I don't want the constant worry of going too far hanging over our heads. I want to kiss you and touch you and, if that leads to sex, I want to able to hold you inside of me until I have to let you go."

He gasped, not knowing what to say to that. Gradually getting to his feet, Adam crossed the truck bed until he stood before her. Her eyes shone in the slowly dying light. There was fear in them as if she was afraid of what he now thought of her. But she didn't back down. He stared down at the condom before taking it in his hands. Just holding it made his senses quicken. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.

She nodded. "I want you. I want to be yours."

"You don't have to do . . ."

"Completely," she interrupted. "I want to be yours completely."

"Okay." He slipped the condom in his pocket and fiddled with his hands. A part of him couldn't believe they were about to do this. "I'm a little nervous," he admitted.

"Me too."

Tentatively, Adam cupped her face in his hands and drew her to him. He brushed his lips over hers then pulled back.

Joan slid her arms around his waist and smiled at him. "I'm not changing my mind unless you want me to."

"I just . . ." He chuckled.

"I know."

Adam took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he kissed her. It was barely more than a lingering caress of lips, warm and deliberate. Joan sighed and arched into him, silently urging him to deepen the kiss. "Shh," he whispered, his breath gliding over her lips. "Slowly. Let's take our time."

She shook her head. "It's getting late."

"They can wait," he insisted as his hands slid down her neck and back, pulling her even closer. "They'll understand."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth, making her gasp. "If we're going to do this, Jane, we're not going to rush. Okay?"

She swallowed. "Okay."

"Okay." Backing her up against the cab, Adam thrust his hand into the heavy silk of her hair and claimed Joan's mouth once more. It was a thorough, methodical kiss building in intensity until he felt her trembling. Joan tunneled her hands under his shirt and dug her fingers into the small of his back. He pulled back and gazed down at her. "Are you all right?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah. I just . . . we have to get this shirt off." She pushed his shirt up and began to tug it over his head.

"Easy, Jane." He stepped back and pulled the shirt off himself. She ran her hand down his chest and moved closer. "You're so beautiful," she murmured as she kissed the wildly fluttering pulse at the base of his throat. His breathing accelerated as she made her way down his chest. She sucked his nipple into her mouth and raked her nails down his abs, eliciting a moan from him.

Gasping her name, he pulled her up and kissed her again. Joan returned his kiss eagerly, her love, need, and desire enveloping him. But, as her fingers curled over the waistband of his jeans and fumbled with the button, Adam felt her underlying fear and desperation clawing at him, pulling him out of his passion-induced daze. "Jane, no," he breathed as he tore his mouth from hers.

Joan stared up at him, too confused in her aroused state to understand what was happening. "What?"

Adam gently moved her hands from his waistband and stepped back, putting much-needed distance between them. He picked up his shirt and put it back on. "We can't, Jane."

"But," she swallowed and shook her head. "We agreed."

"I know. I'm sorry." He raised his hands in supplication, silently begging her to somehow understand what he couldn't yet put into words. "But we can't."

She wound her arms around herself and nodded rapidly. She wouldn't look at him. "I see."

"Jane," he said, reaching out to her.

Joan shrank back. "It's okay, Adam." She tried to smile, but failed. "I get it. I do. We should probably get going," she said as she started to climb over the side of the truck.

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Adam pulled her tight against him. Surprised by his own boldness, he pressed his hips into her back, making sure she felt his arousal. "I didn't stop for lack of wanting you, Jane. I want you so much."

"Then why?" she whispered.

"Because I don't want you like this. Not like this, in the back of my truck with both of us hurting and sad and afraid." He held her closer still, trying to surround her with his body. "When it happens for us, it should be natural, not forced. This is us forcing it."

Sighing, Joan leaned into his embrace. "I know."

"We'll know when the time is right."

Joan turned her head toward him and he kissed her temple. "I can't seem to do anything right tonight," she said with a mirthless chuckle.

"Shh," he soothed. "You're perfect."

"Hardly."

Adam didn't answer, just stood with his chin resting on her shoulder and watched the sun set. Finally, he said, "We should go."

"Okay."

They clambered down from the bed and got in the cab. The drive back to her house was quiet, heavy. Joan stared listlessly out of her window clutching his hand in hers as if afraid he'd disappear. He twined their fingers together and tried to infuse her with some of his optimism. He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. It was usually Joan who looked at the bright side and tried to lift his spirits.

He pulled to a stop in front of her house and shut off the ignition before turning toward her. Slowly, almost lazily, she faced him. She stroked her hand over his cheek and he reached for her. She came to him easily and kissed him, soft and sweet but controlled. When the kiss ended, he watched her, unsure of what she'd do or say next.

Joan worried her lips with her teeth. "Promise you won't forget me."

"Jane," he exclaimed, his mouth falling open in surprise.

"Promise," she insisted.

"I could never forget you."

She nodded, satisfied. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Jane."

"I'm sorry I wasn't better . . ."

"Don't apologize," he admonished, resting his forehead against hers.

"I didn't mean to be all over the place." She laughed. "I had a plan."

"You did?"

"I was going to be serene and strong and I wasn't going to cry until you were gone. Instead, I break down in your arms and tried to have sex with you because I wanted to hold you as tight and as close as I could." She laughed again and, this time, there was something akin to humor in it. "So much for my plan, huh?"

Adam felt his own tears spill down his cheeks. "It's not too late for me to change my mind."

"Yes, it is." Joan leaned forward and kissed his tears away. "Both of us can't be in tears. One of us has to be strong. I vote that person be you."

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. She straddled his lap and buried her face in the side of his neck. Adam rubbed her back and wondered where he was going to find the strength to leave her. "Your parents are probably wondering where we are."

"They can wait," was her muffled reply.

"Come on, Jane." She shook her head and held him tighter. He indulged her. He felt the same.

Eventually she lifted her head and ran her hands through her hair. With a watery smile, she said, "Enough of the melodrama. I'm ready."

They got out of the cab and went inside, hand in hand. Adam said his goodbyes and accepted the Girardis' well wishes. He wished Luke good luck at MIT and soon found himself standing on the porch, Joan at his side. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Call me when you get settled," she said.

"I will."

"Call me every day after that."

"Okay."

"And don't forget to write."

"I won't."

"Remember to send messenger pigeons."

He laughed and leaned back to gaze at her. "Promise you'll remember me."

"Always." She brushed a quick kiss on his mouth. "Goodbye, Adam."

He took her mouth in a deeper kiss. "Goodbye, Jane." Then he turned, marched down the walk, and got in his truck. After one final wave, he drove off, feeling like he'd left his heart on Joan's front porch.


	3. Scenes From Freshman Year

A/N: Hey. I'm back. Here's a little fluff after the last two rather heavy chapters. Unfortunately, it's the only fluff in sight for quite some time as I predict things will go downhill fast and hard pretty soon. Don't say I didn't warn you. Hope you enjoy it. R&R. Alexandri

* * *

Frowning at his cell phone, Adam punched the call button once more, frustration evident in his every movement. When the line rang until the voice mail picked up yet again, he sighed and tried to figure out what this meant. Where was she? They'd barely talked all week and he'd been looking forward to their phone date. One whole hour of uninterrupted Jane time and she wasn't answering her phone. His last class was in forty-five minutes. If he didn't get a hold of Joan soon, there'd only be enough time for a quick "Hey, I love you." As far as he was concerned, he could send an email to say that. 

After failing to get through again, Adam decided to call Joan's dorm room. Maybe Grace would be there and she'd know where Joan was. At the very least, he could leave a message for Joan to call him back.

Grace picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Grace."

"Hey."

"Is Jane there?"

"Good. How are you?"

"What?" Adam asked, frowning again.

"I said I'm good. How are you?"

"Cha, sorry, yo. I'm fine."

"Glad to hear it," Grace continued in the same dry tone she'd answered the phone with. "Is it asking too much to expect my lifelong friend to inquire after . . ."

A noise in the background cut Grace off, quickly followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Finally he heard, "Adam?"

"Jane?" Why was she in her dorm room?

"Adam!" Her excitement at the sound of his voice pleased him and he couldn't help grinning. "Where have you been?"

His grin vanished as his jaw dropped open in shock. Where had _he_ been?

"I rushed all the way back here so I wouldn't miss your call and you forgot," she continued. "Honestly, how a boy with a photographic memory can be so forgetful is beyond me. But that doesn't matter now. How are you? How's New York?"

It took a moment for Adam to get his bearings. He took the time to search his photographic memory. He was sure he was supposed to call her cell, not her dorm. Mentally reviewing her last email, he concluded that he was right. _Call me at 4. Prof. Weiner always keeps us late. Can't wait to hear your voice. Love ya, Jane._ She must have meant for him to call her cell. Her class let out at 3:50.

"Adam, hello. Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said slowly. "I've been calling for the last half-hour."

"I was here the whole time and the phone never rang. Okay, so I was seven minutes late and I was in the bathroom when Grace answered, but I've been here the rest of the time."

"I've been calling your cell. You told me to call at four, right after your last class. I assumed I was supposed to call your cell."

"Of course, you did," Joan said peevishly. "Because that was the sensible conclusion. Oh, Adam, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"I turned it off for my classes—you know how anal teachers get about your phone going off—and I forgot to turn it back on. I could have talked to you all the way home." Joan sighed, rather dramatically in Adam's opinion. "I'm really sorry. I've been kind of scattered lately. Shut it, Grace."

Adam smiled. He assumed Grace made a disparaging remark. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. It's just getting used to everything, juggling classes and laundry and still trying to have an actual life. But enough about me. I want to hear about you. How's New York?"

"Awesome. It's so big, Jane. You can get just about anything you want here."

"Which implies it doesn't have everything," Joan stated. "So what doesn't New York have that you want?

"You."

"Aw. I know how you feel."

They fell into a comfortable conversation about classes—Adam loved most of his, Joan was mostly indifferent about hers—and the new people they'd met. He told her about his new roommate. She'd scoffed when he'd said the boy was weird. He didn't blame her. Adam had never thought he'd see the day when he called anyone weird. But when he told her about the chanting, the all-night role-playing (with some organization, not with Adam), and the preference for tights, she'd laughed out loud and clucked, "Poor Adam."

Soon it was time for him to go to class.

Joan groaned. "I'm sorry about the phone mix-up."

"It's all right, Jane."

"Yeah, but that wasn't nearly enough time."

He couldn't help agreeing.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"I was thinking I could call you."

"Two phone calls in one day. Someone must really like me."

"Yeah, me," she giggled. "So what do say? Do you mind spending a Friday night talking to your girlfriend?"

"You're joking, right? Of course, I don't mind."

"Yay. I'll call you around eight?"

"Sure. And Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Call my cell."

"Sure thing."

* * *

"How come every time you pick for movie night, we end up looking at a black and white film?" Joan asked as she, Adam, and Grace lounged in her parents' living room. The older Girardis were at a party and Kevin was out on a date with some girl Joan had never met. 

"It's _Christmas in Connecticut_."

"What's your point?"

__"It's _Christmas in Connecticut_," Adam repeated as if that should thoroughly explain his position. "It can't be in color. That'd be like looking at _It's a Wonderful Life _in color. If it were in color, it'd lose its charm."

"Whatever, Rove." Grace plucked a candy cane off of the nearby Christmas tree and unwrapped it. "We're looking at _A Christmas Story_ next, Girardi, so hold tight. It'll be over soon."

"You aren't supposed to be looking at Christmas movies anyway," Adam told Grace pointedly. "It does go against the Jewish faith and all, doesn't it?"

"We're not looking at _The Greatest Story Ever Told _or _King of Kings_. In fact, not one of these movies mentions Jesus at all. So, I think it'll be okay as long as the rabbi doesn't find out. He'd have a coronary."

"No," Adam agreed, "we wouldn't want that. Though, if he hasn't had one by now after all the stuff you've pulled, I think it's safe to say he'd survive even if he knew."

Joan buried her face in Adam's neck and laughed.

"Shut it, Girardi."

Joan just laughed harder. Adam had gotten in earlier, but hadn't told Joan. When he'd shown up tonight, movie in hand and a huge grin on his face, she'd squealed with happiness and thrown herself in his arms. Grace had mocked them mercilessly. Joan didn't care. Seeing him again and holding him in her arms was the best Christmas present she could remember ever getting.

Now she lay curled into his side, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of his neck. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes, perfectly content for the first time since August.

Adam gave her a little squeeze and brushed his lips across her brow. "Wake up, Jane," he whispered.

"No," she said, burying her face deeper in his neck.

"Jane."

He sounded so reasonable when he said her name like that. She hated when he used that tone. Sighing, she stretched, surprised to find the two of them lying on her couch, and rubbed a hand over her face. "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure, but it's definitely morning."

Joan glanced sharply at the living room window. Sure enough, sunlight filtered in through the curtains. She couldn't believe she'd slept the whole night through. At least, she'd spent the time in Adam's arms. Dropping her head on his chest, she settled back into her previous position.

"Jane?"

"Just a little longer," she murmured. She didn't see what difference it made now. Judging from the blanket covering them, her parents already knew they were on the couch. Funny how the first time she'd ever slept with her boyfriend would be accidental and on her parents' sofa.

"Come on, Jane," he insisted, patting her back. "It's time to get up."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because I have no desire to get shot by your dad for molesting his precious baby girl."

Clapping her hands over her mouth to hold back her laughter (after all, Grace was curled up in a nearby chair), Joan sat up and stared down at her boyfriend, her eyes twinkling. "First of all, he wouldn't shoot you. And secondly, 'precious baby girl?'"

He just shrugged.

"Besides, are you planning to molest me?"

Adam gave her a look that was both amused and suggestive. Joan's laughter faded and heat suffused her face. Her skin tingled all over and she was suddenly very aware of his hand resting on her hip. Breathing a little faster than a few moments ago, she dropped her voice to a bare whisper. "Are you?"

"Someday," he said, lacing their fingers together. "Eventually. With your consent, of course."

"So this is a distant-future thing?" She so couldn't believe they were having this conversation. On Christmas Eve morning. In her family's living room.

Pushing himself into a more upright position, Adam tugged her in back into his arms. "I think it should be. When we finally take our relationship to that level, I don't want to have to say goodbye to you or watch you leave a couple of days later."

"So after we graduate then, at the earliest."

"I think that's best, don't you?"

She had to admit that that sounded like the best course of action. However, before she got to say so, Grace said, "My ideal way of waking up is not listening to you two plan your sex life."

"You two are planning your sex life?"

Joan and Adam sprang apart. Will stood behind them, glaring down at Adam with a particularly murderous gleam in his eye before looking at his daughter. Adam shot Joan an "I-told-you-so" look before returning his apprehensive gaze to her father.

Will looked at his daughter the way he had the last time they'd attempted the sex talk. Joan didn't know what she'd do if he asked her about pony rides or carnivals right now.

"It's not what you think, Daddy," she quickly reassured. "We've decided that se . . . _intimacy_ will be a future thing. A very distant future thing."

"Unchallenged," Adam stammered as Will turned his glare on him again. "I'm going to go home."

"I think that's a wise decision," Will said.

"Daddy," Joan hissed as she watched Adam hurriedly gather his belongings and leave. Grace had already disappeared. Pushing her hair off her face, she frowned at Will as she stuffed her feet into her shoes. "Was that necessary?"

"Are you thinking of having sex with that boy?"

"We just went over this, Daddy. Distant future. Distant, as in not near. And since when is he that boy?" Joan grabbed a coat and thrust her arms into it.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside to apologize to my boyfriend for my paranoid, insanely overprotective father's behavior. What do you think I'm going to do, jump him on the front porch?" Her mouth fell open at the expression on her father's face. It was like he didn't consider that an absurd possibility. "Daddy! First of all, it's cold out. And second of all, ew! On the front porch where all the neighbors can see? What kind of girl do you think I am?" she asked as she jerked the front door open.

"What's all the commotion about?" Helen asked sleepily as she came down the stairs.

"Ask your husband," Joan said as she slammed out of the house. She had been prepared to sprint after Adam so she was understandably surprised to find him and Grace locked in one of their silent conversations. Knowing better than to interrupt, she leaned against the house and waited for one of them to break.

Surprisingly enough, it was Grace who spoke first. "All right, I'm sorry. But, in my defense, I'd just woken up and hadn't even opened my eyes yet."

"Grace!" he exclaimed. Joan realized that Adam had conveying an entire statement when he said someone's name down to an art form.

"Why were you talking about it anyway, dude?" Grace asked. "You were in her family's house. Her dad's a cop."

"It's not like he's some trigger-happy bandit, you guys," Joan said.

"You're his 'precious baby girl,' Girardi. If he suspected Rove here was 'molesting' you, he'd be loading his Glock right now."

"Ay." Joan covered her face with her hands.

Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It just came up. I was trying to wake her up and we ended up talking about it."

"Yeah, well, I've apologized," Grace said. "Don't expect this to become a habit. I'll see you guys later." With that, Grace trotted down the stairs, got in her car and drove off.

Joan peeked at him through her fingers. "My dad thought I was going to jump you on the porch." Adam's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. She began to giggle. She couldn't help it. He looked so shocked.

Then he opened his arms to her and she gladly stepped into them. "He'll get over it, you know."

"He's going to stop wanting to come after me with his Glock?" he half-teased.

"Yeah. Well," she amended, "he'll probably only think about it in the back of his mind."

He chuckled and rubbed his chin over her temple. His jaw was scruffy with stubble since he hadn't yet shaved. It was an odd sensation, she wasn't used to a stubbly Adam, but she decided she liked the feeling just the same. "I'm glad I'm home."

"So am I," she said, holding him tighter.

"I'll see you tonight?"

She nodded. "I'm sure he'll have calmed down by then."

"Okay." He leaned back and took her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Joan relaxed in his arms. How she missed Adam's kisses. He pulled back and rested his head against hers briefly before letting her go and jogging down the walk to his truck.

She watched him slide behind the wheel and then wave at her. She waved back and, as he drove off, she tried not to think of the last time they'd played out a similar scene. "You have until January," she muttered to herself. "Enjoy it while you can."

* * *

"This sucks." Joan frowned down at her hamburger like it was the source of every offensive thing in her life. 

"I thought you liked Lou's hamburgers?"

"What?" She looked up to find Adam staring at her with a concerned smile. "Oh, right. Yes, I do like Lou's hamburgers. The burger's fine. That's not what sucks."

"So are you going to tell me?" he asked when she'd fallen back into resentful contemplation of the innocent sandwich.

Chin propped in hand, she asked dolefully, "Why couldn't our Spring Breaks overlap?"

Adam covered her hand with his then held it. She curled her fingers around his and squeezed. "I know how you feel. But at least we're getting to spend this time together." They were sitting in Lou's Diner in downtown Arcadia. They'd agreed to meet here instead of trying to hook up in Florida. He had decided to drop in and visit with his dad before going back to New York. She'd visit with her family before starting her break in Daytona with Grace.

"Yeah, I know," she said in the same glum tone as before. "It feels like a tease is all. I mean, we get to see each other two days here, a week there, and then it's goodbye all over again. I feel like all I ever say to you anymore is goodbye."

He beckoned her to his side of the booth with a tilt of his head. With a small smile, she slipped along the cushion and settled beside him. Adam wrapped an arm around her and stared in her eyes. "You're right. It does suck. We're going to get this. There are only a couple more months before summer break. I'm coming home and you are, too, right?"  
"Yeah."

"We'll have all summer to spend time together."

Laying her head on his shoulder, Joan sighed. "I guess. I think I just miss you."

"I miss you, too."

They fell silent. Adam held her close, trying to let his confidence seep into her. When she began to sneak fries off his plate, he knew she was feeling better.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"These little freak-outs I keep having," she said without meeting his eyes.

"I have them, too," he admitted.

Joan looked up at him, half surprised, half unbelieving. "When?"

"When I'm at school. Some days are okay, but others," he chuckled and shook his head. "Other days it's pure hell being away from you."

"Does it make me wicked that that makes me feel a little better?"

"No," he declared. "Let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay. So what should I expect in Florida?"

"A lot of people who should know better doing things they'll be ashamed of when they're thirty."

"Sounds like fun."

Adam laughed and kissed her temple. "It is. Just promise me a few things, okay?"

"Okay."

"Number one – under no circumstances will you get drunk."

"Okay."

"Number two – no matter what you do, don't enter any wet t-shirt contests. It can't end well."

Shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, Joan squeaked. "No contests. Got it."

"And finally, don't flash anyone." She burst out laughing at this, but Adam knew better. He'd seen seemingly nice, quiet girls shake their bared chests at dozens of strangers as if it were normal behavior. "I mean it, Jane. I don't want to see you on some overplayed copy of _Girls Gone Wild 59_."

Tears were running down her face, she was laughing so hard. When she finally managed to control herself, she said, "I promise to be a perfect young lady while I'm in Florida."

"Thank you."

"However, all bets are off when I get back to Maryland."


	4. Summer

A/N: This is a short one. I kind of just wanted to give you the flavor of their summer. I'm pretty sure the next chapter will be long and, therefore, it'll take longer for me to write it (I wrote this today in about five hours give or take).

Responses: Nothing major happens over Spring Break. I just thought it was a cute little conversation. As for chapter two's hotness, my story "Then Everything Changes" is hotter. The "gut-wrenching pain" won't show up for a few chapters yet. However, I promise no tears. _I_ might cry, but that's all I'm speculating.

Hope you all enjoy this. Alexandri.

* * *

Joan ran through Adam's yard with a wave to Mr. Rove. She was late. Sammy had been late getting back to the store. Heidi had freaked out about their pet rabbit again. Though she hated to admit it, she'd come to agree with her boss's rabbit philosophy—they weren't pets, they were food. At least then they wouldn't disrupt other people's plans.

Skidding to a stop in the shed's doorway, Joan had her fist poised to knock when she noticed Adam had on his welder's mask. From the total concentration he exhibited, he'd been working for some time. She glanced at her watch, wondering how late she actually was. An hour. She was an hour late. With a sigh, Joan slumped against the frame and watched him. He was in the zone, she could tell. It didn't seem fair to interrupt him.

She turned around and plodded back the way she came. "Hi, Mr. Rove," she said as she sat on the front steps.

"Good evening, Joan," he replied. "Is everything all right?"

She shrugged. "I was late and Adam's working. I don't want to disturb him."

"I think he'd prefer it if you did."

"Maybe." She smiled. "But I think I'm going to go home. If I leave a note with you, will you see that he gets it?"

"Sure."

Joan pulled a pen and some paper out of her bag and scribbled a note explaining her tardiness and why she didn't disrupt his work. She handed it to Carl. "Thanks."

"You're sure you won't reconsider? He was looking forward to spend the evening with you."

"I'm sure. He was really focused. I'll talk to him later. Night, Mr. Rove."

"Night, Joan."

* * *

Adam leaned back against a tree with Joan sprawled across his lap. She flipped through the Arts and Entertainment section of the paper, looking for something for them to do. He was content to sit and absently braid her hair.

"There's a free concert here in the park tomorrow. I've never heard of these bands before, but it could be good. Of course, that doesn't help us now."

"What time is the concert?"

"Five."

"I can't go," he said with a frown.

"Why not?"

"I have to go to work."

"Oh." She didn't say anything else, but Adam could feel the disappointment rolling through her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what? If you have to work, you have to work." She shrugged, a show of nonchalance. "We'll do something later."

"When?" Joan turned over and stared up at him. "We keep trying to spend time together but something always comes up: work, family, art, one of your sudden, bizarre interests. When is later going to come?"

Joan sat up and looked at him without saying anything. Then she stroked his cheek. "You're right. Something is always popping up. So I guess we should make the most of now."

"What do you have in mind?"

She grinned and pressed her lips to his. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Adam pulled her closer and relaxed into the kiss. Just as it began to heat up, they heard a tinny jingle begin to play.

With a huff, Joan answered her cell phone. "Hello? . . . I'm in the park with Adam. What's going on?" Whatever the answer was caused Joan to sigh heavily. "Where? . . . Okay. . . . No, it's all right. It's not your fault. You didn't do it on purpose, did you? . . . All right, give me fifteen minutes. . . . Bye."

"You have to go?" Adam asked as she closed her phone.

She gave him a sad nod. "My mom's car broke down at the mall. She's stranded and can't get in touch with Dad or Kevin."

"Want me to come with you?"

"Can you?" she asked, perking up a little.

He nodded and was rewarded with a dazzling smile. Joan scrambled to her feet and pulled Adam up. Once they were in the car, she turned to him and said, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

"How did the summer go by so fast?" Joan asked. She and Adam sat in her backyard. They'd just had dinner with her family. A week from now, Adam was due to go back to New York. She'd be leaving for school a few days later.

"I don't know," he answered with a yawn. He laid his head on her shoulder and slipped his arms around her. "It wasn't long enough though."

"Unchallenged." She rested her head on his and stroked his cheek. They'd both spent the day working. It had been the last day for both of them and they just wanted to bask in this moment of togetherness. "I vaguely remember having the idea that we'd be able to spend time together this summer. Do you remember that?"

Adam chuckled. "Yeah. That didn't work out, did it?"

"No." All summer they'd been trying to find time together only to discover life and their bosses had other plans for them. This was the least restful summer Joan could remember and the most disappointing.

"We still have a week," Adam said quietly.

"Yeah."

"And then Christmas." His voice got softer with each word and she knew he was falling asleep.

"And then Christmas."

Joan felt her own fatigue pulling at her eyelids and gave in to it. The moment was so peaceful, sitting outside with her boyfriend enveloped in each other's arms. Stuffing the nagging worry that they should be taking advantage of every minute they had together into a corner of her mind, she snuggled deeper in Adam's embrace and let sleep claim her.


	5. Sophomore Year, Fall Semester

A/N: Hello, all. Well, here's chapter five. Do with it what you will. R&R. Alexandri.

* * *

Joan quietly closed her bedroom door and locked it. Sinking onto the bed, she pulled out her cell phone and debated making the phone call she knew she needed to make. She and Adam were playing phone tag. It had been like this all semester. She'd scarcely heard his voice since shortly after school started. Though she hated to admit it, she was a little afraid. Every conversation she and Adam had had for the past two months ended in petty, little arguments. She didn't want to argue with him tonight.

With a weary sigh, she made the call, hoping for a pleasant talk but bracing herself for another stupid argument. She was about to hang up when she heard his breathless hello.

"Happy Thanksgiving," she said brightly despite the apprehension building in her stomach. What had he been doing when she called?

"Happy Thanksgiving, Jane," he replied, his pleasure at hearing her voice evident. "Was it a good one?"

"Yeah." Shame flooded Joan. Though her flash of suspicion had been general in nature, she felt like she'd just betrayed him. What was wrong with her? There was absolutely no basis for her doubt, none at all. Maybe she was just looking for something to be wrong so the fear festering in her heart would be justified.

"Jane?" Adam asked in the tone of someone who'd lost someone else's attention.

"Hmm?"

"You got really quiet. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said automatically. "What were you doing just now?" she asked, surprising herself.

"Just now? Nothing. I'm sitting here talking to you."

Wishing that she'd just shut up, she found herself asking, "When I called. What were you doing when I called?"

A tense silence followed her question. Joan shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Forget I asked."

"I was in the bathroom, Joan," he answered quietly. There was a subtle edge to his voice, soft and dangerous, like it was taking extreme effort to control his temper. "What did you think I was doing?"

"Nothing."

"No, Joan, tell me. What did you think I was doing?"

She dropped her face in her hand and swallowed back the sorrow welling up inside of her. This was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid, another needless argument. But if the fear gripping her heart was any indication, this argument had the potential to destroy their relationship.

"Well?" he prompted.

"It's not what you think."

"I'm asking you to explain it to me," he said in the same awful, excessively calm voice.

"I miss you," she said helplessly, knowing that didn't answer his question, but unsure of how to explain what was going through her mind.

"You miss me, so you insinuate that I'm doing something inappropriate behind your back. That doesn't make sense, Joan."

"I know. Just . . . please stop calling me Joan."

"I'm trying to understand."

"I know." Taking a long, shaky breath, Joan tried to corral her thoughts and qualms into something coherent. "I've barely seen you since school started. And you're not here now . . ."

"I told you, money's a little tight right now. I can't afford to . . ."

"No," she interrupted. "I understand that. I'm not blaming you or anything. But are you going to be able to come home for Christmas?"

Adam sighed heavily and Joan knew the answer before he began to speak. "I won't be home until the thirtieth. There's a program one of my professors thinks I should attend. He says it would be a great experience for me."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't get to see you anymore. It'd be okay if we had more time to talk and write each other, but we don't. We just keep getting busier as the months go by and I feel further and further away from you."

"I feel it, too," he admitted.

Joan closed her eyes against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I don't want to be the whiny, clingy girlfriend who won't let her boyfriend have his own life . . ."

"That's not you."

"But it feels like it. I'm afraid. I'm so scared because I feel like I'm losing you."

"Jane, no."

"If you feel half as alone as I do . . . ." Joan chuckled sadly. "I can see spending time with someone . . . else. To fill the void."

"Are you," he began hesitantly, "spending time . . ."

"No," she assured him. "I just miss the closeness we used to have."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

"I'm sorry, too," he said. "For everything."

"So what do we do?" she asked. "How do we become Adam and Jane again?"

"I don't know."

Joan wrapped an arm around her stomach and hugged herself against the sadness. She hated feeling like this, uncertain and out of control. It was like she was on an unmanned plane hurtling toward a huge mountain. She didn't know how to land the plane or how to fly it over the mountain. A fatal crash seemed inevitable, a miraculous life-saving maneuver virtually hopeless.

"I have to go now," she said. The tears were getting closer to the surface and she knew she couldn't face her family again until she had a good, cathartic cry. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah." She heard her confusion and fear in his voice. "I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Adam."

"Bye, Jane."

Joan hung up her phone and set it on the nightstand. Then she laid down, pulled a pillow into her arms, and cried. At one point, her mom knocked and asked if she was all right. She said she was though she doubted Helen believed her. It sounded unconvincing to her own ears.

She had drifted off into a fitful sleep when her cell phone rang. Without opening her eyes, she grabbed it and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Sorry to wake you, Jane."

"Adam?" Stretching, she peeked at the clock on the phone. "It's almost midnight."

"I know but I did promise to call you later."

Joan chuckled then grimaced as her head began to throb. "Ow."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I just have a little headache. What's up?"

"I have an idea."

"Okay."

"How would you feel about me spending my Spring Break with you?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Instead of going home or staying here and working, how about I come to UMD and spend the week with you?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "That is if Grace doesn't mind me staying with you two."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Cool. I was also thinking that you could come back to New York with me, if you wanted to. For your Spring Break."

Joan couldn't speak. It looked like there was hope for the plane after all.

"You don't have to come to New York, you know. I just thought it would give us a chance to see what college is like for each other."

"Adam, are you kidding? Of course, I'll go back to New York with you."

"Okay. Okay, then. Good."

Joan smiled. She felt better than she had all semester.

"You should go eat."

"What?"

"You should eat and take something for your headache."

"You're probably right."

"I'll let you go, then."

"Can't we talk while I eat?" Joan asked as she got up and headed for the kitchen.

"Well, sure, I guess so. What do you want to talk about?"

"Everything. We have unlimited night minutes, remember?" She smiled as Adam laughed. "Seriously, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"It didn't start off well, but it turned out pretty nice."


	6. Adam at UMD

A/N: Can you believe it? I actually updated this story. It wouldn't have been possibly without the help of the lovely (I've never actually met her but I'm sure she is), talented, and very funny KateM, who co-wrote this chapter with me. If Ben Cohen seems familiar, it's because he's the hero of her Grace and Ben saga, which begins with _The New Guy_. And Eric is the same ex-boyfriend Eric from the arts festival mentioned in _Starting Over. _I hope this was worth the wait. Read, enjoy, and review. Alexandri.

* * *

Adam collapsed on Grace's bed in a heap. He'd never done so much in one day in his entire life. He and Joan had been to three of her classes, met with some members of Circle K at lunch, and gone to the Art Gallery to look at an exhibit for her Art History class. All he wanted to do now was take a nap. 

"Adam, get up." He cracked open one eye; Joan was standing over the bed.

"What?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

"It's dinner," she said.

Groaning, he wondered aloud if they couldn't just order a pizza.

"What would be the fun in that?" Joan asked.

"No fun at all, but definitely less work on our part," he muttered.

Laughing, she straddled his hips and stretched out on top of him. His eyes wide at the unexpected contact, Adam simply stared as she folded her hands on his chest and propped her chin on them. "If you go to dinner with me, I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Mm-hmm." She wiggled a little to find a more comfortable position.

Praying his self-control held, he stared up at the vixen smiling down at him. "And how," he paused to clear his throat, "do you intend to do that?"

"Oh, I have my ways." Joan sprinkled quick kisses on his lips. After the eighth one, he buried his hand in her hair and claimed her mouth. Her warm, throaty chuckle reverberated through him as he coaxed her mouth open. He'd just swept his tongue along her lower lip when she pulled back and shook her head at him. "Dinner first, then reward."

"That was just cruel, Jane."

Before Joan could answer, the door flew open and Grace raced in, dropping her bag on the floor and muttering to herself. "Stupid idiot. Why can't he just…" She broke off when she noticed Adam and Joan tangled on her bed. "Get off my bed, Rove." She eyed Joan suspiciously. "You two weren't…"

"No!" Joan said adamantly as she got up and straightened her clothing. "No … eww … Adam just kinda fell here."

"And you happened to fall on top of him?"

"Shut it, Grace."

"Whatever, get up," Grace commanded.

"Nice to see you, too, Grace. I had a good trip. Thanks for asking," Adam said as he rose from her bed. He tossed Splash at her. "Nice stuffed animal, by the way."

Grace growled at him, "I'm not in the mood."

Before Adam could ask when she ever was in the mood, Joan said, "We were just going to dinner. Wanna come?"

"Fine," Grace agreed, not sounding happy about it. Resisting the urge to tell his cranky friend that she didn't have to come, Adam straightened his hoodie and followed the girls out of the room. The three of them set off for the South Campus Dining Room since it was closest to the dorm. As they walked, they were stopped every few yards by someone saying hello to Joan.

"Hey, Joan," said a tall, brown-haired guy.

"Hi, Pete," she replied pleasantly, smiling. Once they were out of earshot, she explained that Pete was in her American History class last year.

"What's up, Girardi?" a redheaded guy said, falling into step with them.

"Nothing, Marshall, how are you?" she answered. They fell into a conversation about their statistics professor and the upcoming midterm on Thursday, which ended with Marshall reminding Joan about the study group Wednesday night.

Six more guys of various descriptions stopped her before they even made it across the quad. The one thing they all had in common was that they were all fairly attractive.

As Joan stopped to talk to some guy from her art history class, Adam dropped back to walk with Grace. "Do you know any of these guys?" he asked.

"They're just guys, Rove. Calm down," she answered.

"Yeah, but there are so many of them," he muttered.

Finally, they made it to the dining hall, paid, and got their food. The trio settled at a table in the corner and were discussing the differences between NYU and UMD when yet another guy sidled up. With sandy blond hair and blue eyes, Adam immediately knew that this guy was different from the others. He wasn't that tall, maybe Adam's height, but he was broad-shouldered and muscled in that "I've played sports all my life, but it's not my obsession" kind of way. The guy moved with easy confidence and a quick glance around the dining hall told Adam that the female population was far from indifferent to him. But he seemed to only have eyes for Joan.

"Hey," he said, smiling as he touched her shoulder.

"Hey." Adam frowned. Joan lit up at the guy's presence, literally lit up. She hadn't reacted like that to any of the others who'd talked to her. Pointing at the tray he carried, she tilted her head toward the empty seat at their table. "Do you want to sit?"

"Uh, sure." He took the seat next to Grace and across from Joan. Barely glancing at Grace, the guy gave Adam a discreet but thorough once-over before extending his hand to him. "I'm Eric Donnelly."

"Adam…Rove," Adam replied, reluctantly shaking his hand.

"Oh, you're the boyfriend. The one who goes to NYU."

"Yeah," Adam said, glad to know the guy knew of his status in Joan's life even though he knew nothing of Eric. Maybe he was just over-reacting.

"I'm from New York," Eric said, digging into his mashed potatoes. "It's an awesome city, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Where are you living?"

"Hayden Hall."

"Right off Washington Square, right?"

"Yeah." Adam frowned at the rapid-fire interrogation. He wasn't sure if this Eric guy was just a fast talker or if he was trying to impress Joan with his knowledge of New York. Whatever his deal, it was wearing on Adam's already frayed nerves.

"My parents live in the Upper West side."

"Mm-hmm," Adam said noncommittally. The Upper West side was where the rich people lived. "How do you know Jane?" he asked with pointed politeness. Just because the guy rubbed him the wrong way was no reason to be a jerk.

"Well, _Joan_ and I are in the same major," Eric explained.

"But we really met at badminton club," Joan finished as she and Eric shared a laugh. Adam didn't join in. Aside from not knowing why that was funny, it was taking all of his willpower not reach across the table and strangle _Joan_'s friend.

"He's staring," Grace said flatly. It was the first thing she'd said since Eric joined them.

"Who?" Joan asked, following her gaze.

Adam twisted in his seat to see who they were looking at. He noticed a dark-haired guy staring at the four of them. "Who's that?" he asked, slightly bitter as he figured it was another one of Joan's groupies. Didn't she know _any_ girls?

"That's Ben," Joan explained with a grin. "He has a crush on Grace."

"He does not have a crush on me!" Grace objected.

"And if Grace were to be completely honest, she'd admit she has a crush on him, too."

"Shut it, Girardi!" Grace warned.

"Otherwise," Joan continued blithely, "she wouldn't have known he was staring."

Adam let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. Smiling, he turned to Grace. "So how long have you two had these crushes?"

"Neither of us has a crush," Grace told him before turning her fierce glare on Joan. "And he's practically boring holes in me, he's staring so hard . . ."

"Which you wouldn't know if you weren't doing the same thing to him," Joan retorted.

"I don't have a crush on him." Abruptly, she stood up. "I'm leaving," she said, collecting her tray. As she turned away from the table, Eric ducked, narrowly avoiding getting clipped by Grace's tray. Adam suppressed a smile. Even when she wasn't trying, Grace always came through for him.

------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Adam begged off from attending Joan's TERPCorps meeting. All he wanted was to spend five minutes alone with Joan, but that had proved impossible. Since he'd arrived, there'd been nothing but an endless round of meetings for a myriad of clubs as well as badminton practice twice. Then there were her classes, for which she conscientiously studied, and her study groups. None of this included her multitude of friends. Every time he turned around, someone, usually a guy, was around them. If nothing else, Grace constantly came and went, shooting him dirty looks whenever she entered or left the room.

Deciding that he needed to get out of the dorm before he went crazy, Adam pulled on his hoodie, hoisted his backpack over one shoulder, and headed out. He found a bench on the quad and, pulling out his sketchbook, began to draw the library. He pushed all thoughts of Joan out of his head as he sketched. Quickly, the random lines and angles became the outline of a building.

"That's really good," said a voice over his shoulder. Turning, Adam found the dark-haired guy from the dining hall hovering behind him. "You're a friend of Joan's, right?"

Adam nodded. "Actually, I'm her boyfriend."

"Wait, you're Rove?" The dark-haired guy plopped down uninvited next to Adam. "Grace told me about you."

Adam almost did a double take. Grace was on speaking terms with her secret crush? Thinking that he might be mistaken about the guy's identity, he asked, "And you are?"

"Ben…Ben Cohen, engineering, class of 2010. Nice to meet you."

The two shook hands while Adam fought the urge to laugh. No wonder Grace was freaking out about liking him. Who'd have ever thought Grace would end up crushing on a nice, Jewish engineer-to-be. "Adam," he said, figuring Grace had never referred to him by his first name.

"NYU, right?"

"Yeah."

The two chatted amiably about New York for several minutes. Feeling more and more comfortable with Ben, Adam changed the subject, figuring he had nothing to lose. "Do you know this Eric Donnelly guy?" Ben snorted in response. "What does that mean?"

"The man plays badminton," Ben explained. "It's not even a real sport."

"Unchallenged," Adam laughed, liking Ben even more, "but what kind of guy is he?"

Ben shrugged. "He's a senior. He's in a frat. I guess he's OK."

"But you don't like him." It wasn't a question.

"'Course I don't like him," Ben grumbled. "He's after Grace."

"What?"

"He _is_ always hanging around Grace and Joan."

Adam tilted his head, considering this possibility. Maybe this Eric guy was after Grace. Maybe he had nothing to worry about. But Eric almost never looked at Grace. His eyes were almost always trained on Joan with a weird mix of friendliness and predatory sensitivity. Whenever possible, he touched her, always casually, almost like it was unintentional. In fact, Eric didn't just seem to not be after Grace, he seemed totally unaware of her. If it really was Grace he wanted, he hid it exceptionally well. "I don't think Eric's into Grace, Ben," Adam admitted finally, letting go of the brief hope that Ben was right.

"He's not?" he asked, clearly surprised at the thought. "Then who . . . Joan?"

Adam nodded.

Sitting back against the bench, Ben took a moment to process the new idea. Finally, he turned to Adam. "I still don't like him."

"You don't?"

"No," Ben said with an adamant shake of his head. "It was one thing when he was just my rival for Grace, but if he's after Joan, that's just wrong. She's taken. You don't go after someone who's already taken."

"No, you don't," Adam agreed. Ben turned toward the library, lost in thought, while Adam returned to his sketch. He was almost finished when Ben spoke again.

"I know you don't know me," he began, "but, from what Grace has said about you, you're a really good guy. And Joan, the way she talks about you, I'm sure she loves you."

"Thanks. Joan says you're a good guy, too."

"What does Grace say?"

Adam couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "You don't want to know."

Ben frowned and slumped in his seat for a moment before straightening and returning his gaze to Adam. "I've gotten off subject. What I was trying to say is that, if I were you, I wouldn't trust Eric Donnelly around Joan."

"I don't," Adam said, feeling all the frustration he was reluctant to share with Joan rise to the surface. "But I don't see what I can do about it without coming off like a jerk. He never really crosses the line; he just toes it. If I say anything, she'll just think I'm jealous."

"Well, you are, but that doesn't mean you're wrong."

"Yeah, but what am I supposed to do?" Adam demanded. "I'm not going to be around when you guys get back from break and he's not going to have to back off once I'm gone. Jane's not stupid, but she doesn't see what we see."

After a moment, Ben said quietly, "I could look after her for you."

"What?"

"I know about guys like Donnelly," Ben said with a shrug in the same quiet voice. "He likes her and she's not married so she's fair game as far as he's concerned. I could hang out with her, you know, to make sure he doesn't go too far."

"Why would you do that?"

"Aside from the benefit of getting to spend more time with Grace?" Ben answered, stating the most obvious reason first. "I've seen guys like him operate. I know what it's like to suddenly not have a girlfriend anymore because she's now dating the guy she insisted was just a 'friend.'

"Joan loves you, but you're right. You're not around. One day she's going to need you and you're not going to be here, but Donnelly will be and . . . I'd hate to see two people so important to Grace get hurt."

Adam smiled at how Ben's motivation revolved around his feelings for Grace but he wasn't sure how he felt about the arrangement. Ben appeared to be the only male on campus who wasn't interested in Joan, but he didn't like the idea of yet another guy hanging around his girlfriend in his absence. And if she ever found out that he'd had Ben "looking out" for her, she'd be livid. As tempted as he was to accept Ben's offer, he feared the potential danger it posed to his already fragile relationship wasn't worth the peace of mind it would give him. "I appreciate the offer but I can't accept."

"I understand," Ben said, nodding. "If Joan ever found out, she'd think you didn't trust her. She wouldn't be too inclined to forgive you either."

"Right," Adam said, glad that Ben picked up on the problem so quickly.

"That doesn't mean that she isn't in over her head where Donnelly's concerned," Ben continued, looking Adam in the eye. "She could definitely benefit from some friendly male advice. You know, an honest male prospective from a guy whose interests lie elsewhere."

"You just want to get close to Grace."

"I never denied that."

"At least you're honest," Adam laughed before sobering. "It would be nice to know that Jane had one guy friend on campus. Someone who'd point out the intentions of her other guy 'friends.'"

"Consider it done."

--------------------------------------------

By Friday, Adam had had it. He and Joan had spent a grand total of thirty minutes alone together spread out over five days. When they were in her room, Grace was there. When they went to dinner and Grace begged off, Eric came and sat with them. When they were walking around the campus, trying to have a conversation, they were besieged by all these people who simply had to talk to Joan at that moment.

With the whirlwind of midterms and meetings at an end, Joan had suggested they catch a movie, so the three of them were standing in line together. The wind had whipped up and Joan was huddled against Adam for warmth, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Hey guys," Ben greeted them as he cut into the line with them.

"You can't just cut!" Grace exclaimed.

"It's not a big deal," he replied.

"Yes, it is!"

"Grace, it's subverting the system. I thought that's what you were all about."

As the two of them bickered, Adam had a sudden flash of brilliance. "Let's go," he whispered to Joan.

"What?" she said, startled by his suggestion. "What about the movie?"

"Forget the movie. Let's go hang out."

"Adam, we can't."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because we made plans."

He took a deep calming breath, thinking carefully about his next words. "I haven't seen you at all this week."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Yes, you have. We've spent the entire week together."

"Jane, I've gone to your classes with you, I've gone to all these meetings with you. I've even gone to your study groups with you. But we haven't spent any time together. Just us, Jane and Adam."

"Oh, Adam, I'm sorry. This week has just been so crazy."

"So let's go."

Before she could answer, Grace turned around and handed them their tickets. "Let's go," she grumbled, following Ben in.

The moment lost, Adam shrugged and gestured for Joan to go in after Grace.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "We don't have to if you don't want to?"

"No, it's okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She beamed at him. It was the first time one of her brilliant smiles had been directed solely at him since he arrived. "Thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Adam scoffed as he entered the theater. "I'm not holding my breath."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked indignantly.

"It means," he began as he handed the door person their tickets, "that you still haven't made the dinner thing from Monday 'worth my while.'"

Joan gave him a saucy smirk as she ran her hand down his chest. When she reached his stomach, she grabbed a handful of his hoodie and leaned into him. "The night's still young," she said before brushing a kiss on his lips and tugging him after her toward the busy concession stand.

"What took you guys so long?" Grace demanded as they got in line.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Joan teased.

Grace rolled her eyes and turned toward the register, studiously ignoring Joan, Adam and Ben.

Adam flashed a sympathetic smile at Ben as Joan leaned forward and tapped Grace's shoulder. "He's still here," she stage-whispered, making Ben blush.

"Go to hell, Girardi," Grace responded without turning around.

"You don't believe in hell."

"But you do."

Chuckling, Joan leaned back and patted Ben's arm. "She'll come around," she whispered.

Ben blushed even harder as he turned toward the register as well.

Slipping his arms around Joan's waist, Adam kissed the curve of her jaw. "That was a pretty bold thing you did, provoking Grace like that," he teased.

"Someone needs to." She leaned back in his arms. "But I'm done for the night. I have a boyfriend to flirt with."

Laughing, he leaned down to receive the kiss she offered. His lips were a hair's breadth from hers when he heard a now familiar voice say, "Joan." Somehow, his stomach managed to sink and heave all at once as he looked up to find Eric coming to a stop next to them.

Eric nodded to him before returning his gaze to Joan. "Imagine running into you here."

_Yes, imagine_, Adam thought sarcastically as Joan said hello. She asked what he'd come to see. Adam wasn't surprised to learn that it was the same movie as theirs.

"It's filling up fast," Eric continued. "One of you should go get seats before there aren't any left."

Joan looked up at Adam. "You want me to go while you get the popcorn? I'll try to get seats in the back."

He wanted to say to hell with the seats, why don't they just do something else, but seeing the faux harmlessness in Eric's eyes prevented him from doing it. As much as he wanted to leave, he wasn't going to give the guy the satisfaction of running him off. Pasting a smile on his face, he nodded. He didn't think his voice would be normal enough to fool her.

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a little squeeze before leaving with Eric.

Staring after her, he realized he was an idiot. He should have looked Eric in the eye and told him to back off his girlfriend. Instead, he practically handed her to him.

"Hey."

Adam turned to Ben.

"I'll go keep an eye on him," Ben said.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Ben replied as he thrust his money in Adam's hands. "Get me some Junior Mints," he said as he dashed off after them.

Seven minutes later, Adam finally made it to the movie and what he saw made his stomach lurch. Joan sat next to Eric, who'd just said something to make her laugh. With an annoyed sigh, he went to the aisle they sat in and made his way to them.

As he passed Ben, whom he'd be sitting next to, the guy shrugged and mouthed, "I tried."

Adam nodded and sat down, passing out the refreshments. Joan slipped her arm through his, but continued talking to Eric.

"What happened?" he whispered to Ben.

"Donnelly moves fast," Ben whispered back. "He'd already gotten her here before I could catch up with them. But the girl on the other side of him is his date."

Surprised, Adam looked around to see a pretty blonde beside Eric pleasantly chatting with him and Joan. Turning back to Ben, he said, "He's hitting on my girlfriend while he's on a date?"

"Looks that way."

"What are you two whispering about?" Grace and Joan asked simultaneously.

"Nothing," they said as the lights began to dim.

Joan scooted closer to him and propped her chin on his shoulder. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

Catching one last glimpse of her face in the waning light, he shook his head despite the uneasiness in his stomach and smiled. "No."

She returned his smile and laid her head down. Since he wasn't remotely interested in the movie, he focused his attention on Joan. Adam rested his cheek against her hair, soaking in its vanilla scent. She'd changed shampoos, he noticed. He was acutely aware of every movement, every laugh, every little kiss she brushed across his upper arm. Her absent caress on the back of his hand made his heart race and he shifted in his seat to ease the increasingly uncomfortable fit of his jeans. To preserve his sanity, he turned his hand over under hers and twined their fingers together.

Squeezing his hand, Joan turned toward him. She leaned into him, her free hand clutching his arm and her eyes locked on his lips. Needing no further invitation, Adam kissed her. Bearing in mind how eager she'd been to see the movie, he pulled back only to stop when she cupped his jaw and drew him back to her. Slipping his arm around her waist, Adam relaxed into the kiss, smiling when she prodded his lips apart with her tongue.

It started out gradually, a mere reacquainting of lips with the slightest hint of tongue. Then she slid her tongue along his as her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape and the last of his restraint was lost. With a groan, Adam grabbed her to him, mentally cursing the armrest between them. Joan came eagerly, whimpering even as she attempted to devour his mouth. Somehow, his hand found its way under her shirt. The warm, silken skin at the small of her back combined with the feel of her firm, lush breasts against his chest was sending him into sensory overload but stopping was the furthest thing from his mind. Joan's hand slid from his nape to his neck then continued down his torso to hover above his waistband. Her hand toyed along the edge of his jeans, making him crazy. Adam was certain he would combust at any moment but he was helpless to stop it. Sighing, he surrendered to the inevitable.

Joan's fingers dipped inside his waistband. With a gasp, she broke the kiss. Struggling to catch his breath, Adam stared at her. Even in the flickering blue light, he saw the blush heating her cheeks. She tucked her hair behind her ears, her hand trembling, and cast furtive glances at him. Finally, she gave him an embarrassed smile. He smiled back and cupped her cheek. Joan lowered her eyes and leaned into him. When her lips were next to his ear, she whispered, "I don't know what came over me."

"Me, either," he whispered back, "but I'm glad it did."

She giggled and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"I guess that makes Monday worth my while," he teased. "So what do you have in mind for tonight?"

She giggled again but didn't move or answer. Adam closed his eyes, enjoying her closeness and the caress of her breath on his neck. When she stirred again, she whispered, "I want you."

He sat back and stared at her. She stared back, clearly anxious about his reaction but he saw the passion in her eyes. It was hotter than the day two years ago in his truck. The memory of that afternoon rushed back, filling his mind's eye. He'd wanted her so much, almost as much as he wanted her now. Just like that, he realized that he was tired of waiting and wanting. Sweeping his fingertips over her cheek, he nodded. "Okay."

Her mouth dropped and she searched his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Joan tried to find words but gave up with a gasp. "Okay," she said finally before laying her head on his shoulder.

Adam kissed the top of her head. As he turned back to the screen, he caught sight of Eric's face. He had been staring at Joan. Now he raised his eyes to Adam. For the first time since they'd met, Adam felt the full brunt of Eric's hostility. Letting all his anger and frustration fill his eyes, Adam sat a little straighter and stared back. "Leave her alone," he mouthed.

Eric didn't respond, just glared back. Then he turned back to the movie.

Brushing another kiss on her hair, Adam wrapped his arm around Joan, letting the feel of her snuggling against him take his mind off of Eric for the rest of the movie.


	7. Joan in New York

A/N: With this chapter, this story returns to its original R rating. This installment, as well as the rest of this story, is a collaboration between KateM and myself.We hope you enjoy it.

* * *

When Joan came up from the platforms beneath Penn Station, Adam was right where he said he'd be, under the large train schedule. Making her way through the crowd, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately until his laughter and her need for air forced them part. Adam took her bag and slung it over one shoulder while he grabbed her by the hand and tugged her to the subway. It was rush hour and the subway car was crowded. Adam tucked her bag between his feet and, with one hand securely holding the strap above, wrapped the other arm around her waist. Joan leaned into him, allowing him to support her as his legs had that stiff slackness that experienced subway riders had. 

"I missed you," he said against her temple. She'd laid her head on his shoulder, absorbing the delightful sensation of holding him again.

"We've only been apart for two days," she said, laughing.

Adam shrugged and planted a playful kiss in the crook of her neck. "I still missed you. How was your trip?"

"Good. I love the train."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The seating's spacious. You can stretch your legs whenever you want. The food's better than airplane food, apparently. And, if there's an accident, you don't fall thousands of miles to your death."

"I can see where that would be an advantage," Adam conceded, making her laugh. "How are your parents?"

Joan smiled. She'd spent the weekend with her parents since she hadn't seen them in a while. "They're fine. Mom says hello."

"And your dad?"

"He asked me if I remembered the merry-go-round he used to take me to when I was little."

"What?" Adam asked, pulling back slightly to stare down at her face. "Why?"

Shrugging, she said, "He starts to reminisce whenever he thinks I'm on the verge of having sex."

A look of sheer surprise blossomed on Adam's face. "He knows that . . ."

"We decided we are…didn't we?" Joan replied, somewhat worried that she'd misinterpreted their conversation last week.

"Uh, yeah," Adam said hastily. "We did."

Joan shrugged. "I guess Dad just kinda picked up on it…" Her voice trailed off.

"Jane?"

"And maybe he overheard me talking to Grace."

"Jane!" Adam said loudly. Several people turned toward them and he lowered his head so his mouth was next to her ear. "Your dad is going to kill me," he hissed.

"No, he's not, Adam."

"He's a cop. He has a gun."

Joan laughed lightly and kissed him. "He's not going to kill you." Adam looked skeptical, but didn't argue the point. Resigned to the fact that she'd never convince him her father wasn't trigger-happy where she was concerned, she gave him a little squeeze and put her head back on his shoulder.

They spent the rest of the short ride in silence. When they reached their stop, Adam led her to the street, her hand firmly clasped in his as they walked the short distance to his dorm. Joan sighed as she took in the buildings on either side of her. This is what she missed most—the small touches they shared. Holding hands, hugging, having Adam's arm wrapped around her waist or shoulders. Just being able to touch him made her feel like everything was the way it should be between them.

"That's my building on the corner," he said suddenly, pointing at a plain, red brick building ahead. "I need to tell you something before we get there."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, slightly alarmed.

"No. I just need to warn you," he said. "About Corey."

"Adam, you told me all about Corey," she said, relieved that it wasn't something serious.

He shook his head. "He's gotten weirder." At her disbelieving look, he chuckled. "I know it's hard to believe, but he has. He's really into this role-playing stuff. Comes in at all hours. He used to be human or a hunter or something, but now he's a vampire."

"What?" Joan asked, positive she'd misheard.

"He thinks he's a vampire."

Joan's mouth dropped open and she began to laugh. "You're kidding, right?"

"I wish," Adam sighed.

When they'd arrived at Hayden Hall on Washington Square, Corey was nowhere to be seen. However, his side of the room was covered with books on vampirism, and oddly colored clothing, and Joan was quite certain that was a whip hanging off the side of his desk. "I told you," Adam said at her shocked look. "Come on, let me show you NYU."

As the sun began to set, Adam showed Joan various parts of the NYU campus including the space where he made his art. Joan was duly impressed, but she was also very hungry. When her stomach growled loudly, Adam laughed and they made their way to his favorite coffee shop.

"Hey, Adam," the cashier greeted as they entered. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks," he answered as they approached the counter. "Amy, this is my girlfriend, Joan." Joan smiled. She'd been introduced to everyone from teachers to janitors in the short time she'd been in the city. Adam, it seemed, knew just about everybody.

"Ah, the girlfriend," Amy said with a laugh. "What can I get you?"

"Uh, a mocchachino and a … blueberry muffin."

"Sure thing." Adam paid for their order. "The gang's in the corner," Amy said as she handed back his change. "They're waiting for you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Joan."

"Same here," Joan replied as she followed Adam's gaze to 'the gang.' There, in the corner booth, were two guys and a girl.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Adam said as he steered them towards the group.

"Nothing much," the sandy-haired guy answered. "You guys wanna sit?"

Adam looked at Joan. She really didn't want to sit with anyone but Adam but these were his friends. She couldn't think of a better way to see what school was like for him then hanging with him and his friends. And it was only fair. He'd sat through all of her meetings and classes without a peep. So she smiled and nodded. They squeezed into the circular booth.

"This is…Joan," Adam said proudly. "Jane, this is Joe, Tyler, and Ashley."

"First time in New York?" Ashley asked.

"Um, yeah," Joan replied. It was an innocent enough question, but Joan was sure she heard condescension in the girl's tone. So what if this was her first time in New York? It wasn't like Arcadia was the sticks. "I'm looking forward to seeing everything. The Empire State Building, Broadway, Times Square, some of the funky clothing shops here in the Village…" At the smirks that the others were sharing, she stopped abruptly. "What?"

Joe, the sandy-haired boy who'd invited them to sit, shook his head. "Nothing, it's just that Adam has to do all the…" His nose wrinkled slightly. "…touristy stuff."

"We all do whenever relatives et al come to the city," Tyler added.

Joan glanced at Adam. "Oh. Adam, if you don't…"

Adam waved his hand. "It's fine, Jane." He turned to the other three. "The sacrifices we make, right?" he said jokingly. The conversation turned to one of their professors and Joan tuned out the conversation. _The sacrifices we make?_ She wondered what exactly that was supposed to mean. Adam had been the one to suggest they see the sights so why was he dissing it now? Joan focused again when she heard the loud laughter and looked up to see Adam bang his hand on the table as he laughed. Since when does he do that?

"Now, Tyler, you need to feeeellll the art flowing through you," Adam said in a mock prissy voice. "Oh, Jane, you should have seen it. It was so funny."

"I'm sure it was," Joan said flatly.

_

* * *

_

Thursday found Joan sitting in Adam's art seminar as the professor droned on and on about…something. Everyone else in the room was listening raptly as Mark, as he insisted on being called, paced around the small classroom. He was dressed even more casually than most of the students. Adam sat forward in his seat, eagerly taking in the discussion. Normally, Joan loved when Adam was excited about something, but this…this just seemed phony.

She wanted to enjoy the whole experience, but after two and a half days of being subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, snubbed by his obnoxious friends and listening to his teachers wax poetic about art, Joan found that she was having a hard time caring. Now, she simply bided her time until she and Adam could be alone.

"Thus, art," Mark announced forcefully, turning Joan's attention back to the class discussion, "is the only way to explain the human condition and human emotions."

"What about philosophy?" Joan blurted out before she could control herself.

Mark's head swiveled toward her. "Excuse me?"

"Well, the whole purpose of philosophy is to explain the human condition and human emotions, isn't it? The meaning of life and all that. So isn't philosophy also a way to explain it?"

The entire room seemed to wait with baited breath for Mark's answer. Joan got the impression that this was the first time anyone had so much as asked a question, let alone challenged him outright.

"And you are?" There was that condescending tone again. It became more pervasive the longer she was in town.

"Joan Girardi," she said, not the least bit intimidated. Her chest began to tighten with the effort to bite her tongue, but something about Mark's demeanor made it harder and harder with each passing second.

"And you go to NYU?" Mark asked. Someone behind them snickered; Joan was sure it was Ashley.

"No, I'm…visiting."

"I see." Without another word, Mark turned back to the class. "As I was saying, without art, there would be no communication. Art is the only truth we have in life."

Joan gaped at him. He'd just dismissed her question as if she were some troublesome gnat too insignificant to be bothered with. In that moment, all of the little put-downs she'd endured for the last few days, the smirks and eye rolls Adam's friends thought she didn't notice, came to a head. "So you aren't going to answer my question? What about philosophy? What about sports and politics and science? What about actual human relationships?"

"Jane?" Adam asked quietly. Instinctively, she knew he was concerned about what was happening, but she ignored him. This was between her and his teacher.

Mark sighed, clearly aggravated with her. "What about them?"

"Aren't they all paths to truth?" she demanded.

"I'd hardly call sports a path to truth."

"Obviously," Joan said dryly, staring pointedly at his protruding stomach. "But sports create conversation just like art. Watching a football game can be just as emotionally charged, if not more so, than viewing some new piece from the latest hot artist."

"I fail to see the significance of our outburst to this discussion, young lady."

"Perhaps I haven't been clear," Joan retorted sharply. She could feel her blood pounding in her head and she knew her voice had risen. She was vaguely aware of Adam inching closer to her as if he hoped his nearness would calm her down, but she was sick of being treated like some sort of idiot because she was a non-artist who'd never been to New York before.

"People discuss politics because it involves the governing of society, of people and, therefore, is a way of understanding the human condition. They talk about science because it's an avenue to understanding the world we live in, which directly affect s the human condition. They do all of this without any prompting from art and, through it, seek truth. And none of it, art included, would mean anything is it weren't for actual human relationships and the way we influence each other. Thus, the significance of my outburst to this discussion is that you overstated the importance of art in the grand design. And don't even get me started on the subjectivity of Truth."

The silence in the small classroom resounded loudly in Joan's ears. A part of her knew she'd crossed the line. If nothing else, she'd embarrassed Adam. But a person could only take so much.

"Why are you here?" Mark asked coldly.

"I told you I'm visiting," Joan replied with equal coldness. "I'm Adam's…"

"Friend," Adam cut in. "Joan is a friend of mine." Joan's mouth dropped open at his description of their relationship.

"Well, I suggest you do something about your friend." Then, as if he hadn't made her sound like a wayward puppy peeing on the carpet, Mark returned to his lecture, overstated pronouncements and all.

Joan gaped at Adam. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something but couldn't decide what. With a disappointed chuckle, Joan gathered her things and left the classroom.

An hour later, Adam stopped beside her on the grass of Washington Square Park. She ignored him.

She heard him sigh. "Jane?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

He sank to the ground and handed her a cup. "Mocchachino," he explained when she raised an eyebrow at it.

"Didn't you go for coffee with your friends?" She knew they normally met for coffee after seminar.

"I stopped by the coffee shop to pick these up," he said, holding up his cup. "Then I came looking for you."

Nodding, Joan thanked him as she huddled in her coat against the chilly spring air, her unseeing gaze fixed on the students rushing through the park before her. She knew she should apologize for the scene she'd created in his class, but she still felt a bit sensitive. This week hadn't gone at all the way she'd thought it would and her feelings were a little too scattered to rein in at the moment.

"Jane," Adam ventured as she sipped her coffee, "I'm sorry. I should have said something. I was just caught off-guard. Nothing like that's ever happened in seminar."

She laughed despite herself. Adam smiled slightly and slipped his hand into hers. "I wasn't trying to disown you or anything. I'm proud you're my girlfriend."

Determined to salvage this week…this relationship, she blinked back the tears flooding her eyes and waved her hand. "I understand, Adam. I wouldn't've announced you were my boyfriend in the middle of my stat class. Especially if you'd behaved the way I just did." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that."

"You wouldn't be Jane if you didn't have an opinion."

"Hey, there you guys are," Joe declared as he, Ashley and Tyler approached the two of them.

Joan looked questioningly at Adam who simply shrugged. "Hey," she said, mustering all the enthusiasm she could.

The trio nodded. "That was some . . ." Ashley began but stopped at the steely glare Joan gave her. Even more than Joe and Tyler, Joan disliked Ashley and she just wasn't ready to rehash the debacle.

They joined Joan and Adam on the grass. Soon the three of them began to debrief from Mark's 'brilliant' and 'insightful' lecture. Joan would have regretted not asking them to leave her and Adam alone if it weren't for Adam's hand clasped firmly around hers as he listened to his friends. Remembering her promise to herself, she focused on the conversation, making the effort to nod and smile in the right places. Occasionally, she threw in a very non-threatening remark. Thirty minutes later when the group broke up, Joan felt like she'd been granted a benediction.

Adam cautiously wrapped his arm around Joan's waist as they walked back to his dorm. "Thanks, Jane," he said sincerely.

"For what?"

"For…you know…everything."

She kissed him quickly on the lips. "No thanks necessary." She _knew_ this week would work out.

* * *

"Try this," Joan pleaded, holding out a bit of chicken with her chopsticks. Adam looked at it skeptically and shook his head. Joan waved the chicken in front of his mouth with her chopsticks. "Open wide," she said like a mother talking to a toddler. 

Adam laughed before opening his mouth and allowing her to feed it to him. She made "mmm" sounds as he chewed. "See? Isn't that good?"

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before making a face. "I know you're kidding, Adam."

"How, Jane?" he asked.

"Because I _know_ you," she replied mysteriously. It was just the two of them and several cartons of Chinese food scattered on the floor of his dorm room. She was so glad that the old Adam, her Adam, was back. "You are so lucky. I don't think we've had a bad meal since I've been here."

"Yeah, New York does have pretty good food," Adam agreed.

"Eric told me that we should try out this deli on Bleeker and 7th," she said, taking lo mein noodles from his container. Noticing Adam's grimace, something she noticed he did whenever Eric was mentioned, she paused. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head.

"Okay," she said, ignoring the sense that he was lying in an effort to keep the peace. "So what's on the schedule for tomorrow?"

"I thought we could spend the morning seeing some of the big sights you haven't seen yet. You know, Empire State, the Statue of Liberty."

"Are you sure it won't be too much of a sacrifice?" she asked snarkily before she could restrain herself.

"Jane . . ."

Joan shook her head, suddenly feeling tired. So much for keeping the peace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go there."

Adam scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "It was just a joke," he said softly.

"I know," she said. She did know, but it had been a joke at her expense. As contrite as he was now, she also knew that _her_ Adam would never have done that in the first place. That's what made it so hard to forget. "So what about the afternoon?"

"Tyler, Ashley, Joe and I usually have lunch and go over our class notes or go to the requisite exhibitions. I think we have to see a showing in Chelsea tomorrow."

Joan wrinkled her nose. Aside from the massive doses of condescension she had to endure whenever she was around Tyler, Ashley, and Joe, she was sure that she'd see more of the new and improved Adam if she tagged along. She'd had her fill of _him _for the week. "Do you mind if I skip out on the study session?" Adam looked hurt. "It's just that I kinda want to do some shopping, maybe buy some souvenirs for Grace and my parents. I know you'd rather not be dragged into another secondhand clothing store."

He sagged against the side of his bed and let his head fall back on the bed. "It was just a joke."

Sighing, Joan turned toward him and ran her fingers through his hair to get his attention. When he looked up at her, she smiled. "You hate shopping, Adam."

"I know," he said, brow furrowed.

"That's why I figured you wouldn't want to go with me."

"Tomorrow's your last day in town. I thought we'd spend it together."

"We'll only be apart for a couple of hours," she pointed out. "I might even get a surprise for you."

"I guess," he agreed finally, shrugging.

Sorry that she'd made him sulk and determine to regain the lighthearted mood they'd had the entire evening, Joan propped her chin on his shoulder and snuggled against him. "I'll make it worth your while," she promised, letting her voice drop suggestively.

Adam snorted. "I've heard that before."

"And you sound as if you're doubting me, Mr. Rove?"

"Well, Jane, seeing is believing." He flashed her a grin and she had no choice but to kiss him. Her hand slipped slowly down his chest. Just as she got to his belt buckle, the door opened and she yanked her hand away.

"Oh, good, food," a male voice said.

"Hello, Corey," Adam said dryly.

She looked up to see the infamous Corey for the first time since she'd arrived, his lanky form clad in a black cape, leather pants and a burgundy shirt. He had dark, wavy hair, a dark goatee, and dark, morose eyes. He was much taller than she'd expected. "Jane, this is Corey," Adam introduced, his voice curiously toneless. "Corey, this is Joan."

"I thought you said her name was Jane," Corey said, dropping a bag on his bed. She was surprised to hear it rattle.

"It's Joan," she replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Taking a closer look at his face, she realized that he had black eyeliner completely encircling his eyes.

"Huh. Sure. I'm starving," Corey said, picking up a carton and pulling out a chunk of beef and broccoli with his fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he licked his fingers clean.

"Then it's a good thing we have so much food," she said, not sure whether she was amused or repulsed by him.

"Did you go to psych?" Corey asked.

"When was the last time you went to class?" Adam answered. Corey shrugged and dug out another chunk of beef with his fingers. He held the carton out to Adam and Joan who both shook their heads.

Before Corey could tell them exactly when he had last been to class, the door opened again. A girl of medium height with long, brown hair and extremely pale skin entered. "Hey, Adam," the girl said with a jaunty nod. Her brown, deep-set eyes trailed casually, almost intimately, over his body.

"Hey," Adam replied, pulling his knees up to his chest and blocking her view. "Caitlin, this is Joan, my girlfriend. Jane, this is Caitlin."

Caitlin, dressed in black from head to toe, shook Joan's hand. "Nice to finally meet you. Adam's told me all about you, but I was beginning to think you didn't exist."

"Really?" Joan said, arching an eyebrow at Adam as Caitlin turned toward Corey. Adam shrugged in response.

"Do you have everything?" Caitlin asked Corey. She stood by the door now, practically bouncing on her feet. "We're going to be late if you don't come on."

Flipping open a chest at the end of his bed, Corey began pulling things out and dumping them on the floor: a spiked dog collar; a thick, dog-eared book; a pair of black, four-inch stilettos (Joan sucked in her lips in an attempt not to laugh out loud. If those were Corey's then Adam's tolerance threshold was much higher than she'd ever thought. They turned out to be Caitlin's.); a long, black walking stick with a silver tip; and a sharp, black fedora, complete with red feather, which he put on.

"Is that his pimp hat?" she whispered to Adam. He almost choked as he hung his head and tried not to laugh. She rubbed his back.

"Well, I think that's everything," Corey said as he packed up his necessities.

"Don't forget the chains," Caitlin said. Joan hung her head as well and prayed that she would get through this encounter without laughing.

"Already in the bag. Hey," Corey called out to them. By some miracle, they managed to look up without so much as a smile. He motioned with the carton. "You guys want this?"

"No, you keep it," Adam insisted.

Nodding, Corey said, "It was nice meeting you, Joan. I won't be back 'til late."

"See you, Adam," Caitlin said as she followed Corey out.

Once the door was closed again, she gasped, "Oh, my God," and burst out laughing. He joined her, neither one of them able to get a hold of themselves for a good five minutes.

Finally, having caught her breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, Joan turned to Adam.

"What?" he asked. "I warned you."

"See you, Adam?" she repeated, mimicking Caitlin's husky tone and flirtatious perusal of his physique. "You didn't warn me about that."

"Jane, she's harmless," he replied.

"She wants you."

"So what?"

"What do you mean 'so what?'" Joan demanded. Surely he could see how having some girl with the hots for him hanging around would be a problem for her.

Adam nuzzled her neck before brushing a kiss on her cheek. "I mean you have nothing to worry about."

Joan stared at him skeptically. That may be true now, but what if this Caitlin girl managed to charm him while she was back in Maryland? Even though she was weird, she wasn't ugly. "Are you sure?"

"Jane, she's friends with Corey. Need I say more?"

"I guess not." She paused and fiddled with her fingers. In her heart, she knew Caitlin wasn't a threat, but her head was trying to convince her otherwise. Determined to ignore the part of her that wanted to worry and make a big deal out of nothing, Joan cleared her throat and glanced at Adam out of the corner of her eye. "So Corey won't be back until late?"

"We'll be lucky if we see him before the sun comes up."

"I see."

* * *

"Adam," Joan said breathlessly, wrenching her mouth away from his. 

"Yeah?" His hair was tousled and his hands, those lovely, strong hands, were drawing circles on the small of her back.

Closing her eyes in an effort to think past the magic of Adam's hands on her skin, she asked, "Are you sure the door is locked?"

"Mmm hmmm," he replied, leaning up to kiss her again.

They were sprawled on his twin bed where they'd settled to watch a movie. About twenty minutes in, the movie was forgotten. Adam's shirt had become unbuttoned sometime in the last half hour and Joan's was pushed up exposing her stomach and back.

"No, Adam, I mean it," she said impatiently. "Is the door locked?"

With a quick kiss, Adam abruptly climbed off the bed. He picked up his desk chair and jammed it under the door. "Better?"

Joan nodded and, as he walked back over to the bed, took a deep breath before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. Adam's eyes grew round and, in the split second before he said anything, she fought the urge to yank it back on.

"Jane," he whispered softly. Throwing caution to the wind, she dropped her shirt onto the floor. Adam sat on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor.

"A-Are you s-sure?" he stammered out.

Biting her lip, Joan nodded, knowing that she was as sure as she'd ever be. Adam brushed his mouth against hers ever so gently. But the pressure wasn't enough so she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. The kissing became deeper and longer. Finally, needing air, Joan broke away. Lowering her mouth to Adam's neck, she sucked lightly on the sensitive skin above his collarbone. When he gasped, she smiled against his neck. Her fingers impatiently pushed his shirt off his shoulders and arms. Soon, it joined her shirt on the floor. Perhaps they'll mate too, she thought with a giggle.

"Jane?" Adam asked, pulling back to look at her.

Shaking her head, she responded, "Nothing."

Adam pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, all the while staring into her eyes, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know," she responded, smiling. "I love you, too, Adam."

His hand slid down and, cupping her jaw, he leaned over and kissed her again, running his thumb over her cheek. After a few moments, however, the hand slid down her neck and hesitantly ran over her breast. Joan arched into his hand, increasing the pressure, and, this time, Adam squeezed lightly, thumb flicking over her nipple.

"Adam," she breathed out as her nails raked lightly over his back.

Pulling away from her kiss, he lowered his head to kiss her nipple through the cotton of her bra. He continued nipping and licking at her breast as his hand crept around to the back. Several moments later, he was still fumbling with the clasp. Frustrated, Joan's hands left Adam's back and went to her own. Within two seconds, the clasp was undone and the garment hung loosely around her breasts. Adam's eyes darted between her eyes and her chest. Joan slid the straps down her arms, still covering herself with the bra. This was quite possibly the scariest thing she'd ever done. Scarier than trying out for the diving team, scarier than singing in the school musical, scarier than not going to the same college as Adam. All she could think was _what if he's disappointed_? Adam reached out a trembling hand and gently massaged her shoulder. Slowly, the hand inched toward her breast.

Deciding that it was now or never, Joan cautiously lowered the bra and dropped it on the floor. Adam's eyes were now glued to her chest as his hand cupped her breast, as if he were testing the weight. His thumb, slightly calloused, swept across the nipple and Joan felt a wave of heat shoot straight to her groin.

"Is this OK?" Adam squeaked out. Clearing his throat, he repeated the question.

Joan, feeling the overwhelming urge to close her eyes, merely nodded. Right as her eyes slid shut, she saw Adam's head bending toward her chest. A moment later, his tongue, warm and wet, slid over her nipple and involuntarily she groaned.

"You are so beautiful, Jane," he murmured as his tongue began to stroke her nipple with increasing speed. He pushed her back until she was lying on the bed, Adam suspended above her. Wanting to see what he was doing, she managed to crack her eyes open. All she could see was Adam's dark head juxtaposed against her pale skin. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and bit it.

"Not so hard," she gasped out, feeling a tiny bit of pleasure mixed in with the pain.

"Sorry," he apologized as his tongue soothed. When he switched to the other breast, Joan again felt a wave of heat. As he kissed and licked her breasts, his hands moved lower. The snap on her jeans was undone and zipper lowered. Wiggling, she helped Adam take off her pants. They, too, joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

Adam drew back to look at her, breath ragged and pupils dilated. In silence, Joan watched as his eyes slid over her body. When he just continued to gape at her without speaking or moving, Joan began to regret not listening to her doubts. She knew that she wasn't hideous, but she also wasn't model material. She would never be in _Sports Illustrated_'s Swimsuit Issue. And maybe that's what Adam wanted. Maybe that's what all guys wanted. What was she doing…stripping down naked in front of Adam?

Just as she made up her mind to grab her clothes and cover herself, Adam came out of his trance with a gasp. "Jane," he breathed as he slid his trembling hand over her stomach. He traced her navel with his thumb before sweeping his hand over the curve of her hip. As he caressed the length of her thigh, he raised his eyes to hers. Joan's breath caught in her throat at what she saw in his gaze. His expression was akin to awe. A small smile played on his lips. "So beautiful," he whispered before lowering his head to kiss her neck, his hands toying with the edge of her panties as he sucked and nipped.

Joan felt like she was flying, falling and drowning all at the same time. When Adam's fingers slipped under the waistband, Joan stiffened for a moment, unsure of what he was doing. His fingers curled in the patch of hair between her legs and, releasing a shaky sigh, she relaxed slightly as he continued kissing her neck. As he touched her, Joan squeezed her eyes shut tightly enough to see black spots. He rubbed more insistently and Joan felt like a spring was being coiled in her belly. Her breathing changed, coming out in short rasping breaths.

"Adam, I'm…I'm close," she moaned out.

She was vaguely aware of Corey's voice shouting "Adam! What the hell is blocking the door?" from the hall, but she was too far gone for it to register.

As he slid one finger in, the spring snapped and Joan's hips rose off the bed. "Adam!" she cried.

"Oh!" Corey exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" His voice trailed off and Joan opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Grabbing the pillows off of Adam's bed, she quickly covered herself.

"Get out!" Adam shouted, leaping up from the bed.

"I just needed this," Corey said apologetically, blindly grabbing something from his desk. His eyes never once left Joan's body even as Adam shoved him out of the room.

Collapsing against the closed door and locking it, Adam turned apprehensive eyes to Joan. "Jane, I'm…"

"He saw me! He saw me! Half-naked!" Joan yelled, near tears as she thought about what Corey had witnessed. "Your weird roommate saw me!"

Adam put out a hand to reassure Joan. She shrugged it off and scrambled off the bed. Quickly rooting through the pile, she pulled on her bra, followed instantly by her pants and shirt.

"Jane, he's gone." Adam stood beside her, hand hovering in mid-air as if he was deciding whether he should touch her. "And I'm pretty sure he won't come back tonight."

Joan shook her head violently. "It doesn't matter, Adam. Because nothing is going to happen."


	8. Upswing

_"Hey," Grace said from the doorway as she came into the room. "What are you doing?"_

_Joan looked up from the duffel bag she was packing. "I'm going to New York."_

_"Why?"_

_"I need to see Adam." She stuffed some underwear in the bag._

_Grace shoved a pile of shirts aside and sat on Joan's bed. "You just saw him."_

_"Yeah, a month ago," Joan retorted. "Things have gotten worse since then."_

_"So what's going to New York going to do?"_

_Joan's hand fluttered in a vague, uncertain motion. "I don't know. Maybe we can figure out whatever's wrong with us."_

_Grace nodded as she considered her friend's words. "When are you leaving?"_

_"Tomorrow after class."_

_"What about Friday?"_

_"I'm skipping." At Grace's disapproving look, Joan huffed, "It's one time. I haven't skipped the whole semester and I've already arranged to get the notes when I get back. And since when do you care about school and going to class anyway?"_

_"Since I realized how much classes cost."_

_Laughing, Joan sank on the bed beside her roommate before sobering. "I'm losing him, Grace."_

_"No, you're not."_

_"Yes, I am."_

_"Rove is madly in love with you," Grace stated._

_"And I'm madly in love with him but that doesn't change what I feel."_

_"And that would be?"_

_"Distance," Joan said softly. "When we talk, it's like each word has to drag itself over every single mile between us. Then there are the silences—the loud, echoing silences that are there even when we're talking. I know you think I'm overreacting, but I am losing him and I don't want that."_

Gazing unseeingly at the scenery flashing by her window, Joan blinked back the tears trying to flood her eyes. She willfully shoved the memory to the back of her mind. It wasn't helping and she didn't want her eyes to be red and puffy when she saw him. Leaning back in her seat, Joan closed her eyes and focused on thinking positive thoughts. It was going to be all right. She and Adam were salvageable. They had to be.

* * *

Adam checked his watch against the large clock on the wall. Joan's train should be pulling into Penn Station any minute now. It had been just over a month since he'd last seen her. He considered her unprompted visit to be something of a treat. Their long-distance arrangement was beginning to wear on him. He didn't like being away from her for so long.

Leaning back against the bench, he rested his head and closed his eyes. This was partly the result of pulling an all-nighter and going to classes earlier in the day, but mostly it was an attempt to keep from looking at the time every five seconds. Besides, he needed to mentally prepare himself for Joan's visit. As eager as he was to see her, their relationship was still shaky and he didn't want to disturb it unnecessarily.

When she'd called late Tuesday night to ask if he'd mind her coming to visit, he'd immediately told her to come. They'd talked a little more, just soaking in the sound of each other's voice. It wasn't until they'd hung up that Adam realized they hadn't actually told each other anything. It was a trend that had grown between them: talk more often without actually saying anything important. He hoped they could get past that with this visit.

A shadow settled before him, forcing him to open his eyes. Joan stood there, smiling down at him. "I didn't mean to wake you," she said sheepishly.

"Are you kidding?" he asked as he got to his feet. He took her in his arms and sighed with the pleasure of holding her again. "I'm sorry I didn't meet you."

Joan's arms tightened around his neck and she snuggled deeper into his embrace. "It's amazing that I found you. This place is huge."

With a vague noise of agreement, Adam pulled her closer and buried his nose in the curve of her neck. He inhaled deeply, drawing her scent into his lungs, refreshing his memory with her warm, fresh aroma. He grazed her neck with his lips, reacquainting himself with her silken skin. A fine shiver slithered through her into him. Adam felt like a man dying of thirst that had suddenly been dumped in a pool of fresh water—he was drowning in the relief of having Joan with him again. "I missed you," he whispered into her shoulder.

She smiled against his ear and combed her fingers through his hair. Pressing closer, her arm tightened around him as her hand made its way to the small of his back. "Me, too," she murmured. "I missed you, too."  
Adam didn't know how long they stood like that, appreciating the feel, the closeness of each other. Finally, he pulled back. "Tired?"

"A little."

"Let's go, then," he said, picking up her duffel bag and leading her through the station toward the subway.

Joan smiled at him and squeezed his arm. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

The ride to Washington Square was quiet. Joan rested against Adam much as she had every other time they'd ridden on the subway. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear lulled her into a sense of peacefulness. On the short five-stop ride, she forgot that this trip was a rescue mission and not a friendly, uncomplicated visit between lovers.

The warm, serene feeling stayed with Joan until she realized Adam was taking her to Hayden Hall. They had almost reached the doors when she balked.

"Jane?"

"Where am I staying?" she asked. The image of Corey standing in the doorway watching as her orgasm rippled through her flashed before her eyes and she suppressed a shudder at the thought of running into him.

Adam guided her to the side of the stairs and loosely draped his arms around her waist. "I talked to Corey and he agreed to stay away while you're here. It won't be that big a deal for him since he's hardly around anyway."

Joan was shaking her head before Adam finished. "He was supposed to be gone for the night the last time. We all know how that turned out."

"Trust me, Jane," he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. "You won't see him."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

He nodded. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"I meant I'm not having sex with you," she clarified.

"Fair enough," he whispered before straightening and taking her hand. Reluctantly, she followed him into the building.

Corey was nowhere to be seen when she and Adam got to his room. Though she'd believed Adam when he said he'd arranged for his roommate to be elsewhere, she'd been afraid that Corey would be around anyway. If she knew anything, it was that things didn't always go according to plan.

Silence descended on the room as Adam put away her bag and made sure she was comfortable. Neither spoke until they were both sitting on his bed staring awkwardly at each other.

"Are you hungry?" Adam asked in the resounding quiet.

"Yeah."

"What are you in the mood for?"

"I don't care. Whatever you want is fine."

He stared unblinkingly at Corey's cluttered side of the room. Suddenly, he blurted, "Pizza? It's hard to go wrong with pizza."

"Sure. Okay."

"Good." He got up and grabbed their jackets.

"Um, what are you doing?"

He paused, one arm stuck in his hoodie, and met her puzzled gaze. "There's a pizzeria on University Place I think you might like. I thought we could walk there—get out of the dorm and get some air. Unless you're tired . . ."

"No," Joan said quickly, getting off the bed and reaching for her jacket. "That sounds good."

Minutes later, they were walking hand in hand through the park. It was a perfect spring night—cool enough for one of Joan's beloved scarves but warm enough to wear only a light jacket. They made small talk the whole way—catching up on what her parents were doing, how his father was, whether or not Grace was still avoiding her feelings for Ben.

By the time they reached the restaurant, the tight knot of discomfort Joan had been feeling since arriving at his dorm began to loosen. Adam seemed to be more relaxed as well as he opened the door for her and followed her in. The pizza place had a strong "college hangout" vibe—students filled the tables and booths creating a steady, comfortable din.

"There aren't any seats," she said, searching the place for a glimpse of an empty table.

"Not a problem," he said. He led her to the counter and helped her onto the only empty stool.

Just as she about to ask him where he was going to sit, she felt his arms slide around her waist from behind and he set his chin on her shoulder. Smiling, she turned toward him and asked, "Comfy?"

"For now." He grabbed a menu and flattened it on the counter. "The menu's pretty big. We should decide what we want."

They spent the next five minutes debating pizza toppings and whether they should get a pitcher of soda while Adam kept a vigilant eye on the tables. They'd just placed their order complete with breadsticks when Adam grabbed Joan's hand and tugged her toward a cozy little booth in the corner. They beat the waiter who'd come to wipe the table who greet Adam by name.

"Who don't you know?" she asked as they settled in the booth.

Shrugging, Adam took one of Joan's hands in his and laced their fingers together. "I don't know most of the people in here," he answered.

"Funny."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, puzzled.

"We couldn't go anywhere in College Park without running into twenty different acquaintances of yours," he reminded her.

"That's different."

"How?"

She grinned and brushed a kiss on his lips. "I'm much more outgoing than you are," she teased.

They were still bantering lightheartedly when the food arrived. Adam poured the soda (they'd decided on a pitcher, after all) while Joan served the pizza. As they ate, Joan felt the last of her reserve melt away. Sitting in the snug back corner of the noisy restaurant, Joan felt like she and Adam were finally recapturing that familiar ease they'd used to have with each other. She scooted across the booth's seat and settled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "This is nice," she said as she picked at her crust.

"Yeah," he agreed, wrapping an arm around her. "It's been a long time since we've been like this."

"You mean this comfortable with each other?"

He nodded and handed her a breadstick. "It was awkward over break. I'm glad you're here." She smiled as she chewed but stopped when he stroked her cheek. "Why are you here, Jane?" he asked when she looked up at him.

Her eyes clouded a little and she looked away as she contemplated her answer. Finally, she swallowed and stared into his eyes. "I've been feeling like we're disconnected and I just needed to spend some time with you."

"I feel it, too," he admitted, sadness seeping into his eyes. "It's like we aren't Adam and Jane anymore."

"Yeah. I don't want us to be like that."

"Me either," he said, cupping her cheek. Joan pressed her cheek into his hand as he stroked it with his thumb. Adam's eyes roamed over her face before settling on her mouth. Her lips parted under his gaze and he took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled slowly. "Jane."

She smiled up at him. "I love you," she said softly. "You know that?"

"I love you, too," he whispered, nodding. He brushed a quick kiss on her lips.

A tiny sound of protest escaped her as he pulled back. Joan knew that Adam wasn't one for passionate PDAs, but that too-brief kiss wasn't enough for her. She wanted, needed to feel his mouth pressed firmly against hers. She wanted to drown in the heady sensation of him claiming her mouth. While she didn't expect him to push her back on the booth's seat and ravage her, she did want to see the self-control he always kept determinedly in place when they were in public slip just a little. She wanted him to find her so irresistible in that moment that nothing else mattered but kissing her.

Adam swept his fingertips over her cheek, his eyes fixed on her mouth. "Jane," he breathed, his tone asking her to explain the suddenly charged atmosphere between them. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and she gasped. His eyes darkened and he leaned into her. Joan closed her eyes and offered her mouth.

His lips moved lightly on hers, brushing back and forth as if he were familiarizing himself with their contours. The barely-there kiss was driving her crazy; she wanted to grab his shirt and pull him closer, crush her mouth against his and thrust her tongue in. Instead, she settled on gripping his shoulders and leaning into him. Adam, however, would not be rushed. He continued his unhurried exploration of her lips until she began to tremble. Then he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive spot below her ear, and ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

Joan opened for him without further prompting. Adam eased his tongue past her lips and teeth to leisurely dance with hers. Groaning, she relaxed into his kiss as her fingers burrowed into his hair. He gradually deepened the kiss, expertly delving into the warm, secret recesses of her mouth. Time felt like it was speeding and crawling by simultaneously. The only thing Joan was sure of was Adam anchoring her with his mind-boggling kiss.

At last, Adam ended the kiss, resting his forehead on hers and staring at her through heavy-lidded eyes. He smiled; she assumed the undoubtedly dazed expression on her face was comical at best. As she tried to catch her breath, he brushed his thumb across her lower back. When she finally managed to breathe at a somewhat normal rate, she returned his smile. "That was amazing," she told him softly.

"Yeah, it was," he replied. She was pleased to hear he was still breathy, too.

"We should kiss like that more often."

"I think that's doable, don't you?" he asked as he leaned toward her again.

"Most definitely," she whispered as his lips met hers.

"Joan!" a voice exclaimed. "You're back."

She raised her head to find Adam's trio of friends coming toward them. "Hey," she sighed, due as much to her lingering breathlessness as to her disappointment at the interruption.

"Didn't expect to see you back in town so soon," Tyler said.

With a weak smile, she muttered, "Yeah, well . . ."

"Mind if we join you?" Ashley asked as she began to sit on Adam's other side.

Joan scooted away from him, resigning herself to an evening with New York Adam and his friends when he said, "Actually, Jane and I are kind of on a date." He slipped his arm around her waist and tugged her back against his side. "It's been awhile since we had one. We didn't get a chance to when she was here last month."

Ashley blinked and her mouth fell open a bit. "Oh," she said as if the idea of Adam turning down their company was inconceivable. "Sorry."

Adam smiled and shook his head. "It's okay. I'll see you guys later."

"Enjoy your date," Tyler said, pulling Ashley along behind him and Joe.

Joan watched in amazement as the three made their way to the counter. So entranced was she that she jumped when Adam nuzzled her neck. She turned toward him and melted at the amorous expression on his face. "Where were we?" he asked softly.

With a happy grin lighting her face, Joan cupped his jaw in her hands and gave him an enthusiastic kiss. Adam laughed as he plunged his free hand into her hair and held her even closer. Eventually needing air, Joan pulled back and cuddled against him. "Thank you," she breathed.

"We somehow managed to spend two weeks together and still be separated," he said as he kissed her forehead. "I think we deserve a weekend to ourselves. Don't you?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you still hungry?"

Food was the farthest thing from her mind. They packed the remaining food, paid the bill, said goodbye to his friends and left.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow?" Adam asked as they walked back.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

"I was thinking we could go uptown and work our way back to the Village. Make a day of it. What do you think?" he asked, giving her hand a little squeeze.

"You have class tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"We can't 'make a day of it,'" she told him.

"Yes, we can."

"But . . ."

"Jane," he interrupted, "you have class tomorrow, too, but you're here with me, two hundred miles away from school. I think that merits skipping class just this once."

"Are you sure?"

Adam nodded. "It's not like I get to spend all the time I want with my girlfriend."

Even though she loved the idea of spending the day prowling the city with him, Joan wasn't sure she should let him blow off class.

"Jane, it's okay. It's not like I make a habit of skipping."

"I know but we have all day Saturday to sightsee."

Adam maneuvered Joan to the side of the sidewalk and faced her. His eyes twinkled in the golden glow of the streetlight as he smiled down at her. "I want to spend tomorrow with you and not in my classes listening to my professors going on and on about whatever. Now we can go sightseeing or we can play video games all day. We can even go to every secondhand clothing store in a five-mile radius. I don't care as long as we do it together, okay?"

Feeling herself melt for the second time that night, Joan nodded and returned his smile. "Okay."

"Good," he said as he reclaimed her hand and started walking again.

They'd almost reached the park when she said, "I think we should go sightseeing tomorrow since we're both skipping. At least, we'll be doing something cultural."

"Okay," he laughed.

"That way we won't feel guilty about spending all day Saturday at the secondhand stores."


	9. The Sacrifices We Make

Adam woke Joan early the next morning. She'd grumbled something and rolled over. Knowing they needed to leave soon if they were going to fit everything in, he leaned over her and whispered, "I'll make it worth your while."

Joan glanced over her shoulder at him. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"Get up and find out," he challenged.

With a squinty glare and a groan, Joan pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed. "This better be good," she warned as she bundled her necessities in her arms and headed to the bathroom.

Forty-five minutes later, they were on their way to the coffee shop for breakfast. The walk perked Joan up considerably and she peppered him with questions about the itinerary for the day throughout the walk and breakfast. It wasn't until they got on the subway that she quieted. As she leaned against him like she always did when they rode the train, Adam let his thoughts wander to the night before.

When they'd gotten back to the dorm, they'd lain on his bed and watched television until neither of them could hold back their yawns. Then, turning their backs to each other and resisting the urge to peek, they'd changed into their nightclothes and, much to his surprise; she'd slipped into his bed and beckoned him to join her. "Are you sure?" he'd asked.

"We're too tired to do anything, Adam," she'd told him as she patted the bed and turned over.

Hesitantly, he'd gotten into bed with her, ready to make a pallet on the floor at the first sign of discomfort. She'd pulled his arm around her waist and fallen asleep almost instantly. Adam had lain awake a bit longer, enjoying the feel of her in his arms and hoping that this was a sign things were back on track for them.

"Aren't we supposed to get off here?" Joan asked, jolting him out of the memory. "Make a transfer or something?" They got off and just barely caught the 6 train uptown.

They began the day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which Adam confessed was his favorite place in the city. He kept up a running commentary in the Sculpture Court and the Greek Gallery, which he was surprised she paid attention to. After a couple of hours, they left and strolled through Central Park. Once they'd roamed through Rockefeller Center, they picked up some hot dogs from a street vendor (Joan couldn't seem to get enough of them) and made their way to Times Square. They ended their sightseeing tour at the New York Public Library. She had questioned his choice of a finale but fell silent as they passed the massive stone lions. Her jaw dropped as they walked around; occasionally she'd point out some aspect of the architecture that particularly impressed her.

Joan chatted excitedly the whole ride back to the dorm. Adam listened patiently, an amused smile on his lips as he answered her questions. This was how he'd intended her first visit to be before they'd run into his friends and he'd felt compelled to save face in front of them. The more he thought about that odd moment, the less he understood why he'd acted that way. His first year he'd spent every weekend exploring the city, guidebook in hand. So had Joe, Tyler, and Ashley. When had they become such snobs about living here when none of them were from big cities? Looking at Joan now, her eyes shining as she recalled their walk through Central Park, he wished he hadn't wasted the last visit with all of the angst and misunderstanding.

"Maybe we should forget the shopping and do some more sightseeing tomorrow," Joan pondered as they got off the subway. "What do you think?"

"Your call."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "If there's something else you'd rather do . . ."

"All I want to do is spend the weekend with you," he assured her.

They walked the rest of the way to his dorm planning what they were going to see the next day. After a stop to pick up his mail, they went up to his room. Most of his mail was junk, but he came across one that had Jason Marks Art Academy printed on the front.

"I didn't see the Statue of Liberty last time," Joan said, flopping on his bed. "We could do that tomorrow."

"Do you want to go to it or see it from the ferry?" Adam asked as he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Quickly skimming it then giving it a more thorough reading, his jaw dropped when he realized what it meant.

It wasn't until he felt Joan's hand slide down his arm that he remembered she was even in the room. "Are you okay?" She peered into his eyes, concern clearly etched on her face.

"Uh, I . . ." His mind went blank. How was he going to break this to her?

"Adam?" she said when he didn't continue.

"Maybe you should sit down, Jane."

She shook her head, a frown forming on her brow. "I think maybe I should stand for this."

Sighing, Adam tried to find the words, but couldn't. He knew she wasn't going to like this. Eventually, he simply held the letter out to her.

"What is this?" she asked, taking the letter and reading it. He watched as understanding dawned on her face. Her mouth tightened and she blinked rapidly, but didn't speak.

Finally, he couldn't take her silence any longer. "Say something, Jane."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Art camp. In the Catskills. For the whole summer. Of course."

"This wasn't my idea, Jane. The guy who runs it is a world-renown artist," Adam explained. "He spoke in my Intro to Sculpture class, liked my work, and asked to see my portfolio. I didn't even know this was going to happen. I swear I didn't know he was going to invite me."

"It's okay, Adam," she said, nodding as if she were trying to convince herself as well as him. "This is why you came here, right? To take advantage of all the opportunities New York has to offer. To become a better artist."

"Yeah, but . . ."

"Can we not talk about this right now?"

"There's more."

Joan stared at him, dumbfounded. "What more can there possibly be?"

"I, uh, I . . ." He paused, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. Finally, he decided to just say it. "I applied for a semester abroad and it was approved for fall."

"What?" she whispered. "Where?"

"Florence."

"Italy?"

He nodded. "I just got the letter Tuesday."

"Italy?" she repeated, her voice rising sharply. "You're going to Italy and you didn't tell me this, why?"

"I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you."

"This wasn't it."

"I know. I just . . . Jane . . ." he stammered as he cupped her face in his hands.

She brushed his hands away and backed away from him. "So what are we going to do? Huh? You're going to be in the mountains the whole summer—I assume without any outside access—and then you're going halfway around the world. We're not going to see each other for the rest of the year. Longer even since I'll probably be back at school by the time you get back. If the last two years are any indication, I won't see you 'til next March."

"Nothing's definite, Jane. It's just an invitation and an acceptance. No decisions have been made."

"Oh, come on, Adam," she exclaimed, glaring at him. "You've been invited to attend an invitation-only art camp by some renowned artist and you're going to turn it down? You have the chance to go to _Italy_ to study art and you're going to say no?"

"I don't know. I don't . . . what do you want me to say, Jane?" He ran his hands through his hair and tried to think of a solution to their dilemma. "W-We can make this work. I'm sure we can."

"Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Joan gave a sardonic chuckle. "It means we can't even manage being two hundred miles apart. Do you honestly think we're going to overcome thousands of miles and six to nine months without talking?"

"We'll write . . ."

"It won't work. It hasn't been working and we both know it."

"So you're just giving up?"

"I don't know what else to do," she shouted. She bit her lip, which had begun to tremble. "We can't keep doing this. We can't keep pretending."

"I love you, Jane," he said quietly. "I never pretended that."

"I know. I love you, too, but I don't fit in your life anymore."

"You don't fit or you don't want to fit?"

"_You're _the one who's going to be gone for the next six months."

"Come on, Jane, you barely had time for me when I visited. I felt like I was intruding."

"Don't you dare go there, Adam."

"Why not?" he demanded, feeling the first strands of anger in the pit of his stomach. "It's not like you've gone out of your way to make this relationship easier."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that cramming your days with clubs and meetings and _badminton_ doesn't leave a lot of time for me, does it?"

"I can't believe you're blaming me for this!"

"I'm not blaming you," he retorted.

"That's what it sounds like."

"I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"Excuse me for trying to have a life."

"Does your life have to include an entourage?" he asked.

Joan's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"

The anger that he was trying so hard to keep at bay exploded. "You know exactly who I'm talking about, Joan!"

Joan's breath came out in a huff, like he'd punched her in the stomach. Her face crumpled and he'd never seen her look so devastated. He felt a little sick knowing he'd caused that look, but he had to know how she really felt about him. Even if it hurt.

"What are you asking me?" she asked softly.

"You know."

She shook her head at him. "Spell it out."

He closed his eyes and forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Do you have feelings for him?"

"How can you ask me that?"

"How can I not, Jane, when you're willing to just end it?"

"Do you know how hard it is for me to even suggest this?" Joan wailed. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if that was the only thing holding her together. "Do you have any idea how much I wish things were really okay with us? Or how often I've gone to sleep wishing you were five minutes away instead of three hours away?"

Adam nodded. He wished for the very same things. "I think I have a pretty good idea, but you still haven't answered my question."

"No, my feelings for Eric don't go beyond friendship."

He snorted in derision. "You couldn't even spend the week with me without mentioning his name several times."

"Eric and I are just friends, Adam. That's it. Don't try to put your guilt about leaving on me!"

"I have nothing to feel guilty about!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Joan's voice cracked and Adam knew she was on the verge of tears. He knew he should stop, that they should both stop, before one of them said something that was beyond taking back.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted in a soft voice.

"You didn't used to keep secrets from me!"

"No, that was your job, wasn't it?" When her eyes widened, he wished he could take back the words that hung in the air between them.

"I never lied to you." The tears that had been threatening to fall finally did. And Adam felt like an ass.

"Let's talk about this when we're both calmer," he said, reaching out for her.

Joan shook her head and wiped furiously at her eyes. "No, we need to talk about this now. Eric said that when he and his girlfriend…"

"God, you can't even argue with me without bringing him up!" Adam roared.

"I told you before. Nothing is…"

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"WHAT? No! What kind of question is that?"

"Well, you sure as hell aren't sleeping with me!"

Joan's mouth dropped open and the enormity of what Adam had just accused her of hit him full force. "I can't believe you'd say that," she said in a low voice. Without another word, she pulled open the door. A bewildered Corey stood in the hall, keys in hand poised to unlock the door. She shoved him out of the way and left.

"Man, we can hear you all the way down the hall. Is everything…" Adam roughly shoved past Corey and chased after Joan. He caught up to her one block over as she hailed a taxi.

"Jane!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"

A cab stopped in front of her and she jerked the door open. "I'm going to the train station."

Adam closed the cab door and shook his head at her. "It's rush hour. You're going to wind up sitting in traffic."

"I don't care," she declared as she brushed his hand away from the door and opened it again.

"Damn it, Jane," he sighed, shutting the door again, "you'll just waste money. Do you even have any money on you?" Joan stopped trying to open the door. Adam took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Look, you don't have any money and you don't have your bags. Let's go get your things and we'll take the subway. If you really want to go."

"Fine," she said, heading back to his building.

* * *

Joan thanked the agent and took her new ticket. Slipping her backpack on her shoulder, she scanned the floor around her for her duffel bag. Realizing she didn't have it, she began to panic when she noticed Adam leaning on a nearby pillar, her duffel in his hand. He looked up at her as if he could feel the weight of her gaze on him. Her heart lurched at the sorrow and regret she saw in his eyes. Ignoring the pain that steadily pierced deeper into her being with each passing second, she tossed her hair back over her shoulder, adjusted her backpack, and approached him. "I can take it from here," she told him as she reached for her bag. 

Adam swung the bag out of her reach. "I'm not going to let you wait alone," he said before turning away from her and winding his way through the crowded depot to the seats near the platforms.

She hurried after him. "You don't have to do that."

He stopped in mid-stride and stared back at her. Now he looked offended as well as sad. "I am not going to leave you here alone," he stated, enunciating each word as if he wanted to avoid any misunderstanding.

"Fine." Tamping her temper down, she followed him through the station.

After wandering around for a few minutes, Adam finally led her to a row with empty seats. They sat opposite each other; he settled her duffel between his feet and she fiddled with her backpack. It was easier than looking at him.

Joan could still hear his accusations ringing in her ears. _Are you sleeping with him? Well, you sure as hell aren't sleeping with me! _How could he even think she'd do something like that to him? The anger and shock and hurt bounced around inside of her, making it difficult to concentrate on something, _anything_, else. Why wouldn't he just go away? "I just missed the last train," she said into the heavy tension. "The next one won't be here for another thirty minutes."

"Okay."

"You don't have to stay."

Adam turned his hardening gaze on her. "You can't wait to get rid of me?"

"That's not true and you know it," she snapped. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

"You've been my girlfriend for the last four years. The least I can do is see you on the train, don't you think?"

Sighing, Joan nodded and let the silence settle between them again. Four years. How had they come to this after four years?

"I'm going to get something to drink," Adam said suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. "Do you want anything?"

"No. Thank you."

He stood, set her bag in his seat and walked off into the crowd. Joan released the breath she was holding and dropped the angry countenance she'd been wearing like a shield. Her pain outweighed her anger and she embraced it. The fear and the panic crashed over her. How was she going to get on without him? Adam was such a huge part of her. Why couldn't he, didn't he, trust her? Didn't he know that he was it, the only one she'd wanted since she was sixteen? That she couldn't imagine being with anyone else.

"Here."

Quickly regaining control of her expression, she looked up to find Adam standing over her holding out a small plastic bag. "What's this?"

"Snacks for the train," he answered, his voice as reserved as his stance.

"You didn't have to," she said quietly as her tears got the better of her. Why did he have to go and do such a thoughtful thing for her?

His face softened and she knew he was trying not to violate the new, unspoken rule between them: that he'd lost the right to comfort her. She could tell that he wanted nothing more than to sit next to her, wrap her in his arms, and make this whole nightmare go away. Joan wished more than anything that he could. With a small smile, she took the bag. "Thank you."

"Sure." He sat and rested his head on the back of the bench.

She looked in the bag and found a huge muffin, a couple of candy bars, and a bag of cheese curls. Fighting back a fresh bout of tears, she tucked the bag in her backpack. "Adam?"

He didn't lift his head or open his eyes. "Yeah?"

"What happened to us?"

Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself up and rested his arms on his knees. "I don't know."

Joan leaned forward, too. "How could you think I'd do something like that to you?"

"You're giving up on us, Jane," Adam said simply. "You don't give up on anything."

"But to accuse me of cheating? I'd never do that."

"Neither would I, but that didn't stop you from thinking I could."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"Thanksgiving," he reminded her. "You didn't say the words, but we both know you thought it. And you had nowhere near as good a reason to feel insecure as I do."

"He's just a friend," she whispered.

"You may be his friend," Adam said quietly, "but he isn't yours. Jane, none of them are."

"What?"

"All those guys that hang around you? They like you, Jane. They want more than friendship from you."

Joan shook her head. "You're just being paranoid."

"Or maybe you're just being blind," he countered. "You are beautiful and smart and warm. There's . . . I've never been able to put my finger on it, but there's something special about you, Jane. I'm not the only one who knows that."

"You don't how much I love that you see me that way, but not everybody does."

"I'm not the only one who's noticed," Adam sighed. "And even if all your guy friends didn't have a thing for you . . ."

"Which they don't."

"Eric does. He wants you and, not only do I think you know that, I think you're flattered by it."

She hated to admit it, but what Adam had just said stuck a nerve. And she wasn't willing to look at it more closely. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I'm not the only one with admirers, Adam."

He stared at her, confused. "Are you talking about Caitlin?"

"And Ashley."

His mouth dropped open. "Ashley?"

"Don't tell me you don't see it."

"I don't," he shrugged. Sighing, Adam grabbed her bag and moved next to her. "Ashley doesn't really appeal to me."

Joan let her head fall back on the bench. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because, despite everything, I don't see how," she stopped and summoned her courage to say the words neither of them had used yet. "I can't see any way around breaking up."

Adam raised his eyes to hers. "We could try harder. Give up some things."

"Like my friendship with Eric?" she asked, her voice slightly bitter.

"I'm not going to lie and say I wouldn't like you to do that," Adam admitted. "But I was thinking you could give up a club or two."

"And what would you give up?"

"What do you want me to give up?"

Joan propped her chin in her hand and contemplated his question. Finally, she said, "In a perfect world, you'd leave NYU and transfer to Maryland."

He smiled and she gave a sad giggle. "I've actually thought of that a couple of times," he confessed.

"Really?"

Adam nodded. "You have no idea how much I miss you. But you said 'in a perfect world,' so what do you want me to give up in this imperfect one?"

"Honestly?" she said. "Your friends." He gaped at her and Joan shrugged. "They were mean and snobby to me over break. They acted like I was inferior because I wasn't an artist and I'd never been to New York. When you're around them, you become this totally different person, this bizarro Adam. And, frankly, I don't like him very much."

"Jane."

She took one of his hands in hers and gave him a sad smile. "Don't worry. I'm not asking you to give them up. Even if I thought it would make a difference, I wouldn't ask you to do that."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Oh, honey, even if you gave them up and I gave up some clubs _and_ Eric, it wouldn't change anything. You'd still be going away for the rest of the year . . ."

"I don't have to."

"Yes, you do," she said vehemently. "You came here to become a professional artist and these are amazing opportunities. I'm not going to let you pass them up because of me."

"Can't you wait for me?" Adam asked, his misery a frighteningly accurate mirror of her own.

"Even if I waited, which I'd totally do for you, we'd still have the same problems when you got back. They've been building for two years and they're not going to go away."

"So we work at it. Just because it's hard doesn't mean we have to break up."

"I think that if we stay together, we'll just end up hurting each other worse than we already have."

"Do you think this is any less painful?"

Joan opened her mouth to answer when her train's arrival was announced. She gave a little gasp and closed her eyes against the panic resurfacing inside of her. It couldn't be time yet. She wasn't ready.

Adam squeezed her hand in his, seemingly oblivious to the fact that in a few short minutes, she was going to be on the Metroliner trundling back to Maryland. "Jane?"

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, fully aware of the tears welling in them and blurring her vision. She tried to smile but her face wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she extracted her hand from his and cupped his face in her hands. "You are the best thing . . ." she paused as a sob threatened to overwhelm her, "the _very_ best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Please don't leave, Jane," he pleaded, his hands desperately gripping her arms. "Come back to the dorm and we'll talk about this. All night if we have to."

Brushing his tears away with her thumbs, she leaned forward and pressed her trembling mouth to his, trying to convey with her kiss the depth and complexity of her feelings for him. When she pulled back, she caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. Her heart broke once more at the thought of leaving her beautiful boy. God, how was she going to leave him? "I have to go. It's time."

He shook his head, denying her words, even as she nodded. She stood—her arms slipped through his grasp—and gathered her bags. "Goodbye, Adam."

Joan turned and went down the escalator to the platform, praying she made it onto the train before her will gave out and collapsed into a quivering, sobbing mass.

"Jane!"

She quickened her step, trying to outrun him.

"Jane," Adam said, his arms slipping around her.

"Please don't make this any harder than it already is," she begged him.

"We don't have to break up, Jane."

Easing out of his arms, she led him to the side of the platform and faced him. "Yes, we do."

"No . . ."

"Yes!" she practically shouted. "We do. We do because we aren't good for each other anymore."

"You're saying that after one fight?" he demanded.

"I'm saying it after a year of sniping and doubting and hurting each other," she exclaimed, desperate to make him understand. "We aren't the same people we were that day in your truck or at graduation or who kissed in a shower of feathers at a school science fair. They don't exist anymore. We're all that's left and . . . we don't fit together."

He looked like she'd ripped his insides out and decimated them. "So that's it," he asked finally. "It's over."

She didn't even bother to wipe away the tears streaming down her face as she nodded. They were nothing compared to what was to come, she knew.

"But . . ." Adam folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know how to be without you."

Dropping her bags, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around him, her face buried in his neck. His arms came around her, crushing her to him. When she felt stable enough to look at him, she pulled back and said, "I don't know how to be without you either."

"Then don't be."

Her hands fisting in his hair, she stared in his eyes. "Go to art camp. Go to Florence. Go and be brilliant."

"No."

"Become everything you came here to be."

"Jane, no."

"If you don't then all of this is for nothing. I don't want to feel like this for nothing. You have to make all of this worth it."

"We don't have to . . ."

She laid her fingers over his lips. "I love you, Adam. I never imagined love like this was possible."

Adam stared at her, really stared, for a long moment. Finally, resignation snuffed out his hope and Joan felt herself die a little at the bleakness in his eyes. "I love you, too," he murmured.

"Promise you won't forget me," she whispered.

"Jane," he said, a mix of nostalgia and reproach in his voice.

"Promise."

"I will never forget you." He brushed the hair off of her wet cheeks. "Remember me."

Releasing her death grip on his hair, she slid her hands to his jaw. "To my last breath. Maybe even beyond."

He gave her a watery smile. She returned it. Then his lips were on hers and she let herself get lost in this one last kiss. When the kiss ended, Joan glanced at the line over her shoulder as Adam ran his fingers through her hair. If she didn't leave soon, she'd miss it. "I have to go."

"I know."

"Please don't hate me."

"I'll try."

Joan chuckled sadly. "You're supposed to say 'never gonna happen.'"

Adam shrugged. "It hurts too much for me to promise that right now."

She nodded. She guessed that made sense. "Well, even if you hate me for a little while, never doubt I love you."

"Okay."

"Okay." She picked up her bags. She began to back away from him.

He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. "Goodbye, Jane."

Sniffling, she managed to smile back. "Goodbye, Adam." Unable to bear standing there any longer, she turned and ran to rest of the way to the train. She handed over her ticket and boarded.

She stuffed her duffel in the overhead bin and sat in her seat next to the window. Closing her eyes, she said a brief prayer for strength and looked out of it. Adam still stood on the platform, staring at her with sorrowful eyes. He raised a hand in an almost imperceptible wave. She waved back. They stared at each other until the train pulled off and they couldn't maintain eye contact any longer.

Joan settled back in her seat and pressed her fist to her mouth. Closing her eyes against the flashing scenery, she gave in to her sorrow and let the tears come.

* * *

A/N: I have three things to say in my (and, to some extent, KateM's) defense. One, this is an angst/romance. Two, the title is _The Way _Back _to You_. Three, I warned all potential readers in chapter two. That's all I have to say. Alexandri. 


	10. Yesterday

A/N: You guys responded much better to the last chapter than I thought you would. I'm really, really happy about that. Anyway, here's chapter ten. I'll be taking a break after chapter 12. I've been neglecting my other fics. They're sad and lonely, so I'm going to give them some love. Alexandri

* * *

If Grace was surprised to see Joan back early from her weekend in New York, she kept it to herself. Joan pretended like nothing had happened, as if she and Adam hadn't decided to split up. However, during the oddest times—the middle of lunch, walking to class, badminton practice—a niggling doubt of whether she'd made the right decision would creep into her mind.

One afternoon after yet another doubt, Joan made a pact to be decisive, to believe that she _had_ made the right decision. Finding an empty box in the laundry room, she took it back to her dorm room and silently began packing away Adam's things, the letters he'd written to her, the small gifts he'd given, the sketches he'd done. All of these things went into the box. Finally, she closed up the flaps and stuck it on the top shelf of her closet. _Out of sight, out of mind_, she thought.

Grace must have noticed that the room looked somehow emptier because, two nights later, as they both sat doing homework, Grace piped up with, "Is everything okay?"

Joan focused on her statistics book, the words suddenly swimming before her eyes. "Why wouldn't everything be okay?" she asked, voice wavering ever so slightly.

"'Cause all of Rove's stuff is gone," Grace said.

Joan turned to find Grace staring at her. "W-We've agreed to n-not see e-each other."

"What?" Grace looked flabbergasted.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Joan said before fleeing the room. As she exited the dorm and took a deep breath of fresh air, a voice called to her.

"Hey, Joan."

"Oh, hey, Eric," she said politely, avoiding his gaze. He was the last person she wanted to see at the moment.

He peered into her eyes. "You okay?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. Fine. Need to go to the library," she said hurriedly.

"I can, uh, walk with you. If you'd like."

Joan shook her head. "No, that's okay." Without another word, she turned and headed to the quad. Once there, she really didn't know what to do with herself. Sighing deeply, she settled on a bench facing the library. For the millionth time, she wondered if she'd done the right thing, wondered if Adam was anywhere near as miserable as she was. The sun was still sinking into the horizon and Joan shivered as the temperature began to drop. She'd run out of her room without even a scarf. Despite the coolness of the evening, she sat and stared vacantly at the library.

"This seat taken?" A voice broke her from her reverie and she looked up to find Goth God standing beside her bench.

"Oh, it's You," she said absentmindedly, wrapping her arms around herself.

He removed His leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders before joining her on the bench.

"Did I do the right thing?" Joan asked, never tearing her eyes from the library.

"Do you think you did the right thing?" He replied.

"Can't You just give me a straight answer for once?" she said bitterly.

Goth God sighed. "You know I can't. The choices you make . . ."

"Determine your destiny and who you are. Blah, blah, blah," Joan spat, her sorrow and doubt welling up inside her yet again. "None of that makes it any better. None of that changes the fact that I love him and I miss him. None of that changes the fact that I broke his heart. None of that changes the look on his face when . . ." A sob escaped before she could stop it and she covered her mouth with her hand, willing herself not to cry in the middle of campus. A part of Joan felt ashamed for lashing out at Him. If she were fair and honest, she knew that none of what happened was His fault. But she felt so much, too much, and He was the only one who'd really understand.

"I'm sorry it hurts so much, Joan," He said softly.

"Then make it stop," Joan begged, her voice small.

"It doesn't work that way," He said gently. She felt the bench shift and she looked up just in time to watch Him stride away. Realizing He'd left His coat, she pulled it tighter around her, warding off the chill.

* * *

A week later, Joan was supposed to be doing her statistics problem set. Her study group was meeting tomorrow night and they'd give her hell if she didn't have anything done. Instead, she found her gaze drawn to the top shelf of her closet. Sighing, she dragged her desk chair over and climbed up on it. Hesitantly, she grabbed the box, climbed down and sat on her bed. Fingers trembling, she opened the box. A sketch of her smiling shyly was the first thing she saw. Tears began to fill her eyes as the memory of that night unfolded in her mind.

They'd sat by the campfire, tired after their day exploring the Grand Canyon. Grace and Luke had already gone to sleep; it was Grace's turn to drive first shift the next day with Luke reluctantly playing navigator. Adam had suggested they take advantage of the time alone. They'd made out for the next fifteen minutes until he'd surfaced for air and asked her to pose for him. As he'd opened his ever-present sketchbook to a fresh page, she'd tried to make herself presentable. He'd told her stop. Embarrassed, she could only imagine what she looked like, she'd shaken her head and tried to smooth her hair into place.

"Jane," he'd said. She'd looked up at the odd tone of his voice. His dark eyes had seemed to burn with a desire she'd only glimpsed before. A deliberate, blatantly sensual half-smile stretched his lips, causing a stirring of lust that she'd never experienced. Blushing, she'd turned her eyes to the fire and, seconds later, she'd heard the scratch of his pen on paper.

Closing the box, Joan sniffled and tried to keep the sadness at bay. Once again, she found herself questioning her decision.

A knock on the door interrupted Joan's near breakdown. She wiped hastily at her eyes and opened the door. Ben was standing there, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey, Joan," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Hey, Ben," she replied, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

"Is, uh, Grace around?" he asked, taking a quick peek around her. "I was hoping that…" He broke off as he realized that tears were leaking out of the corner of her eyes. "Joan, are you okay?"

"I…I'm fine," she stammered. "Grace isn't here. But I'll tell her you stopped by." She had almost turned completely around before a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

"N-Nothing," she insisted.

"I know we're not close friends or anything, but I can tell that something is wrong. What is it?" His soft voice was her undoing and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably while trying to explain what had happened. Without warning, she threw her arms around his middle and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Ben stood stock still for several moments before his arms finally wound around her.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," he said, trying to soothe her.

"N-No, it's not," she wailed. "Adam and I b-broke up."

"Oh, Joan, I'm sorry," Ben apologized. He patted her awkwardly on the back as she explained what had happened on her ill-fated trip to New York. "I…I don't know what to say," he admitted when she finished talking.

"Girardi, have you seen…" The door flung open and Grace's voice trailed off as she caught sight of Joan in Ben's arms. Instinctively, Joan stepped away from Ben. "I'm sorry I interrupted," she said stiffly before turning and fleeing.

"Ben, I'm sorry," Joan said. "You should go after her, explain…"

He shook his head. "No. I like Grace. A lot. She knows that I like her. But I'm…I'm tired of chasing her."

"Grace is just…"

Another shake of his head. "Let's not talk about Grace, okay? Do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"

"No, I have a lot of work to do," she said, declining the invitation. "Thanks, though, for everything." After spending the next few minutes assuring Ben that she'd indeed be fine, he finally left. Joan sighed and attempted to work on the problem set. Forty-five minutes later, the door opened slowly.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Grace said bitterly, glancing around the room.

"You weren't interrupting before!" Joan exclaimed, shutting her book with a thud.

"That's not what it looked like!" Grace retorted.

"Grace Polk, nothing was going on. First of all, Adam and I broke up like a week ago," Joan explained, clearly exasperated with her best friend.

"And?" Grace prompted.

"What?"

"You said first of all. Thereby implying a second of all." Grace threw her backpack on her bed and slung her jacket over her desk chair.

"And second of all, Ben Cohen is madly in love with you," Joan said, knowing that statement would get a rise out of Grace. _Someone needed to beat it into her head_, Joan thought bitterly.

"He…he…he is not!" Grace sat on the bed and, unzipping her bag, rooted around.

Joan rose and sat next to Grace, grabbing her hands to still them. When Grace looked up at her, Joan said softly, "Grace, he's not going to wait around forever."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace said, twisting out of Joan's grasp. Unfortunately, their dorm room was small and there was nowhere for her to escape.

"He likes you. He's spent the last six months pursuing you. What are you waiting for?" Joan paused. "Him to get tired and move on to someone else?"

"Who else?" Grace demanded loudly.

Joan chuckled to herself. "I knew you liked him," she said, shaking her head.

"Of course, I like him," the blonde admitted softly. She paced the room, ten paces up and ten paces back. "I'm scared, Girardi."

Joan got off the bed and planted herself in front of Grace, forcing her friend to stop. "What are you scared of?"

"Messing things up," Grace admitted with a sigh. "I screwed things up with your brother. I…I don't want to mess things up with Ben."

"Oh, Grace," Joan sympathized. "That was a long time ago."

Grace locked eyes with Joan. "And if you and Rove can't make it, I'm pretty sure there's no hope for the rest of us."

Joan groaned and lay on her bed, covering her eyes with her arm. "Please don't put this on me." Suddenly, she sat up. "I have enough stuff to deal with, Grace. I don't need to know that the reason you won't be with Ben is because Adam and I broke up. It's not fair." She felt the tears springing into her eyes again.

Grace stood awkwardly for several moments before moving to sit next to Joan. "Do you want to talk about it?" she said quietly.

"No," Joan replied, sniffling. "But there is one thing you can do for me."

"What's that?"

"Go find Ben." Grace glared at her. "And talk to him. Please?"

"Fine, I'm going," Grace finally replied after a several minute stare-down with Joan. She grabbed her jacket and left the room.

Joan again felt her gaze drawn to the box on her bed. Knowing she wouldn't get a damn thing done unless she really looked through it, she sat on her bed, took a deep breath, and carefully dumped the contents out.

Another sketch, this one of her poring over her statistics book, lay on top. With a tender smile, she set it aside to find the "lost" poster he'd done of Larry the cat. Beneath that was the beanie he'd insisted she wear before he'd let her go out in the snow three Christmases ago. He'd said she could get sick if her head was uncovered, especially once the snowballs started flying. There was the DVD copy of _Tommy Boy_ he'd given her for their first anniversary. Next to her beloved cheerleader sculpture was the silver locket he'd given her in San Francisco. She opened it and gave a sob-filled laugh. There were two pictures inside: one of them laughing into the camera and one of them kissing.

She'd told Adam that their split needed to be worthwhile. But, as she pawed through four years of mementos, she couldn't help feeling she'd made a huge mistake. Although tears were streaming down her face, she felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise up. Unable to stop it, she clutched the photo taken last summer of her and Adam asleep in her backyard to her chest and laughed and cried uncontrollably.

* * *

Grace took a deep breath and knocked on the door, which was decorated with pictures of 'the marvels of engineering' as Ben put it mixed with pictures of half-naked girls. She didn't hear anything so she knocked louder.

"Goddamnit, Jimmy. I told you to bring your keys!" a voice shouted as the door was flung open. Ben was standing there in his underwear and Grace found she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. His dark hair was sticking out in every direction and his green eyes looked foggy with sleep. His chest was covered with a mat of dark hair that narrowed to a thin trail over his abdomen before disappearing into his blue boxer briefs. She was surprised to find Ben quite a bit more …well-defined than she'd imagined. Not that she'd imagined him in his underwear.

Not at all liking the smirk that Ben wore, she snapped, "Do you always answer the door in your underwear?"

"Well, Grace, I normally don't have guests at…" He leaned back into his room for a moment. "…midnight on a Thursday."

_Midnight_? she thought. _When had it become midnight?_

"Grace, what are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Knowing that anything other than the truth would sound incredibly lame, she admitted, while staring at her feet, "Girardi made me."

Ben chuckled. "_Joan_ made you come over to my room at midnight?" he asked for clarification.

"No, she made me come over to your room at six. _I_ hid in the library until it closed. And then I went and had several cups of coffee." She decided that her gaze was best left on the floor. When he didn't answer for several moments, humiliation flooded her. _Isn't it obvious why I'm here? _"I should go," she said quietly.

"No! I mean, come in…please." He held the door wider and she slipped past him. She stood awkwardly next to his desk while he grabbed a pair of jeans from his desk chair and slipped them on. Yanking open a dresser drawer, he reached in and grabbed a shirt. When he pulled it over his head, she tried not to notice how the muscles in his back bunched and flexed. Turning back to her, he smiled expectantly. "So do you want to explain why Joan made you come over to my room…at six?" he added mischievously.

"She wanted me to come over and talk to you." He sat on his bed and motioned for her to join him. With a small shake of her head, she sat on his desk instead. "She wanted me to talk to you…about us."

"U-Us?" he repeated dumbly. "There's an us?" That was not the reaction she was expecting and her face must have reflected it because he quickly added, "I mean…I want there to be an us…I just didn't think…you did."

Having never been in Ben's room before, Grace was curious and her eyes darted around the room, taking in all the little 'Ben' details: the poster of the Golden Gate bridge, the graphing calculator and mechanical pencils on the desk, the lava lamp next to his bed, the photo of the two of them laughing that Joan had taken during the Spring Carnival. "I…kinda…do…want there to be an…us…but I'm…scared," she stammered.

Sometime while she was talking, Ben had risen from his bed to stand next to his desk. "Scared of what?" he asked softly.

She finally allowed herself to look him in the eye. "Scared that we won't make it…that one of us will get hurt…"

Sighing, he laid his hand over hers. "We're not Adam and Joan."

"W-What?" she asked, astonished that he'd picked up on her real fears.

"We're not Adam and Joan," he repeated, turning her hand over and lacing their fingers together. "We've both been in relationships, Grace, and we've both had things not work out."

"But, Ben, I…really messed things up…with Luke…and I…"

"I'm not Luke," he said, "and you're not Rachel. And we're not seventeen anymore, Grace."

She didn't know what to say to that so she concentrated on the feel of his palm pressed to hers as his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand. The few times she and Ben had touched, she'd felt a spark. And it was no different now. Her heart was beating a little faster and she was feeling a little warm. However, Grace _was_ surprised at how right it felt to hold hands with Ben.

He cleared his throat, focusing her attention on him once again. "So…is there an…us?"

"I…" She shook her head. "I'd like to…try…"

Ben's face broke into a wide smile. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, don't get used to me admitting…things," she said with a scowl.

He laughed out loud. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Shut it, Cohen."

"Make me," he said, leaning closer to her. When he was so close that she could see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, Grace's eyes fluttered shut. A moment later, she could feel Ben's breath on her lips. She leaned forward and gently pressed her mouth to his. They kissed closemouthed for a few moments before Grace swept her tongue across his bottom lip, demanding entrance. Ben's mouth opened and her tongue eagerly sought his out. As they kissed, her free hand found its way to the nape of his neck, toying with the short hairs there. One of his legs nudged her knees apart and his hand settled on her hip, pulling her toward the edge of the desk. Finally, needing air, they broke apart. "Wow," he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. Feeling the same way, but unwilling to admit it, Grace merely smiled. "Do you have any plans tomorrow night?"

"Why?" she asked, instantly suspicious.

"I want to take you out. On a real date." He paused. "And I won't take no for an answer."

"I don't think I like this tough…" His mouth sealing over hers cut off her sentence. They kissed passionately for several more minutes. When he pulled her flush against him, her eyes popped open.

"I…I think I should…go."

"I think that's a good idea," he responded, pulling away abruptly.

Grace hopped down from the desk and moved to the door. Ben sat on his bed and pulled on his shoes. "What are you doing?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"I'm walking you back to your dorm," he answered matter-of-factly.

"I don't need you to walk me back!" she protested. He stood, opened the door, and waited for her to leave. Once they were both in the corridor, he closed and locked the door. "Ben, I can walk…" He took her hand and tugged her along. "…myself back to my dorm."

By the time, they arrived at the entrance to her dorm, she'd run through all the reasons why she could have walked herself back, all the reasons why he was a chauvinist, and all the reasons she was now reconsidering accepting a date with him. He kissed her once more and, five minutes later, he pulled away reluctantly. "Good night, Grace," he said before shoving his hands in his pockets and heading back to his dorm.

The room was dark when Grace carefully opened the door. As she fumbled in her dresser looking for her pajama pants and T-shirt, a voice said softly, "Either you didn't talk to him or things went really well."

"Shut it, Girardi," Grace whispered fiercely.

The lamp above Joan's bed clicked on and Grace looked over to find Joan sitting up. "And, judging by the state of your hair, I'm guessing things went really well." Grace could feel the blood rushing to her face, but remained silent. "So what happened?" Still no response from Grace as she quickly undressed and put on her sleep clothes. "You know, if you don't tell me, my imagination will just run away with me."

Grace climbed into bed. Turning toward the wall, she admitted softly, "He's taking me out tomorrow night." Joan said nothing and a moment later the lamp clicked off, leaving them both in darkness. Right before Grace drifted off to a sleep filled with dreams of Ben Cohen, she said drowsily, "Thanks, Girardi."


	11. Here With Me

A/N: Okay. Either y'all hated the last chapter, you didn't know what to say about it, or you didn't realize I'd updated. I'm hoping it's the last one. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it. And, yes,we do have a plan for where it's going. Alexandri

* * *

"Come on, Adam. You can't keep doing this."

Adam stared blearily at his roommate. For the past two weeks, Corey had been nagging him to "buck up." "This whole depressed thing is not working. You're bringing everybody down, man," he kept saying. He'd ignored Corey at first, but for the last week, it had taken all of his self-control not to shout that he didn't give a damn if he was bringing anyone down. Joan had left him and he felt utterly lost, as lost as he'd felt after his mother died. "I came like you asked, didn't I?" His tongue felt heavy like it didn't belong in his mouth.

"And what are you doing?" Corey asked, his arms folded over his chest. "You're sitting in the corner by yourself guzzling a beer. It's a party. Have some fun."

"No, thanks."

Corey sighed. "She's gone. You need to move on."

"We just broke up two weeks ago," Adam retorted, his throat aching from the effort it took not to scream at his well-meaning but clearly clueless roommate. "It's a little hard to move on when the person you love most in the world just abandoned you."

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

Adam lifted his eyebrows in stark disbelief. Sitting in the living room of the East Village apartment of one of Corey's role-playing buddies, he was surrounded by people in Goth makeup, heavy black leather dusters despite the early May weather, spiky hair and an inordinate amount of silver jewelry. "You're kidding, right?"

"It's not like you guys spent that much time together anyway. I don't see what the big deal is."

Corey had been raised by wolves. Adam was now certain it. "It just is, all right."

"Whatever. You're at a party. Start acting like it," Corey said dismissively before disappearing into the noisy throng.

Glaring after his insensitive roommate, Adam tossed back the rest of his beer—his third of the night—and resumed his moody contemplation of the situation in which he found himself. Not only was he steadily getting drunk—his vision was already blurry—but Joan's face kept swimming before his mind's eye. Of course, this Janevision had been a constant since she'd boarded the train and left him two weeks ago. But the alcohol in his system seemed to make his picture perfect memories hyperclear. Everything, even the details he hadn't paid attention to at the time, floated before his eyes with perfect clarity.

Carefully, he pushed out of his chair, pausing to let the sharp rush of nausea settle before he pushed through the unyielding noise and bodies toward the kitchen. A surprisingly normal-looking guy filled a red plastic cup with beer and held it out to Adam. He shook his head. He had a theory—his memories became more defined the drunker he got. The sensible part of his brain yelled that he should stop now before he did something stupid. Instead, Adam stumbled around the keg and grabbed a bottle of clear liquid. Studying it, Adam made out the word Schnapps. That was a kind of vodka, right? He thought so. That should be strong enough. He filled a cup halfway and took a gulp. Gripping the counter, Adam shuddered and waited for the coughing and burning to subside.

Suddenly, Adam stood on the Girardis' front porch staring at Joan. Her hair, damp from the shower, cascaded around her face and shoulders. For the first time, he noticed the subtle reds and shimmering golds glinting in her rich, chestnut locks. Her honeyed skin glowed in the warm light spilling over her from the living room. Even with her face completely devoid of makeup, Joan was easily the most beautiful girl he'd ever known. God, how he wanted to touch her.

The image faded leaving Adam shaken. He searched for more moments, knowing that it only exacerbated his pain. He tried to focus on one memory at a time, but they tumbled over each other so that he only got flashes. The harder he tried, the more desperate he felt. Unsteadily, he raised the plastic cup to his lips.

Then it disappeared.

"No, you don't," a vaguely amused female voice said.

Adam gingerly glanced over his shoulder. Joan smirked back. Wait. That couldn't be right. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he looked again. "Caitlin?" he asked, surprised by the gruffness of his voice.

"I think you've had enough for one night," she told him, the smirk still firmly in place.

"I'm fine." He turned around, staggering slightly.

"In a sense," she conceded, "but not the one you mean."

He leaned against the counter figuring he needed the extra support since the room was moving. "Gimme the cup back, Caitlin."

"Not even if you say 'pretty please." She sniffed the contents and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Peppermint Schnapps, straight up? You don't even drink, Adam. You are so cut off."

"Gimme the damn cup," he practically growled. He made a grab for it, missed, and lurched forward into her.

Dropping the cup, Caitlin instinctively slipped her arms under his and slowed their descent to the kitchen floor. "Help," she called.

A part of Adam knew he should get up, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the spilled cup. Now he'd have to get another one if only he could muster up the energy. Someone pulled him to his feet and Caitlin wrapped her arm around his waist while draping his arm around her shoulders.

"Where you taking me?" he asked listlessly as she guided him through the crowd.

"Bedroom. You need to lie down before you hurt yourself or someone else."

He would have answered but everything had begun to spin in kaleidoscopic Technicolor. To keep from vomiting, he buried his face in Caitlin's shoulder and tottered in her wake.

Caitlin gently dumped Adam on the bed. Opening his eyes, he found the room was blessedly dark. Only the moonlight streaming in through the solitary window allowed him to see Caitlin hovering over him.

"You want to tell me the cause of this amazingly uncharacteristic behavior?" she asked softly.

"No." He closed his eyes against the moonlight. It had begun to hurt his eyes.

"All right," she sighed. "Get some rest. I'm going to go see if I can get someone to take you back to your dorm."

Nodding, he turned away from her and the light. At the moment, he found it difficult to care about anything. Besides, rest sounded good.

Adam drifted into a semi-conscious state. The memories he'd sought earlier flooded him now. An unhindered view of Joan in the front seat of the convertible they'd gotten from the police impound for their road trip bloomed forth. Her bare feet on the dashboard, she'd worn a tiny pair of khaki shorts, a bikini top, and a thin, short-sleeved button-down. She'd said it didn't make sense not to take advantage of all the sunbathing time she could. After all, there wasn't a law that said you could only do it at the beach.

The memory was followed by one of them standing in the hallway at school. She'd looked so hurt and scared and uncertain standing there before him trying to accept his relationship with Iris even though they both knew she was the one he wanted. He'd felt so conflicted. He actually liked Iris and he didn't want to hurt her, but she didn't begin to compare to Joan.

Suddenly, Joan was in his arms, her hands warm and light on the back of his neck. They swayed in time to the music under the soft, twinkling lights of the hotel ballroom. As gorgeous as she looked in her rose-pink silk gown, her lips were what held his attention. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moved closer to him, her hands applying subtle pressure. He'd taken the hint and kissed her, careful to keep his tongue in his mouth. The last thing either of them wanted was to be separated by Price.

Joan beaming at him as they took pictures at graduation.

Joan convincing him to dance in the moonlit backyard at some fiesta she'd gotten them invited to in New Mexico.

Joan frantically swinging a folding chair at _Ascension_.

Joan crying in his arms once she'd accepted the finality of Judith's death.

Joan standing in front of Lishack's A.P. Chem class for the first time clearly unmoved by what she saw.

Joan ran her fingers through his hair and softly called his name. He rolled onto his back and stared up at her. Her hair fell down on either side of her face, blocking it from the light and his view. Slowly, reverently, he lifted his hand and brushed one side back, tucking it behind her ear. The moonlight enhanced the gentle curves of her face and he smiled in delirious pleasure. She was here.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey."

"I heard you had quite a night."

He chuckled sadly as his grin faded. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her skin.

She gave a quizzical glance. "For what?"

"Everything." Adam sniffled as he gazed into her beloved face. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"I know." A sharp pang seized his heart at the forlorn tone of her voice. He wished he could make her sound happy again. "We should get you home."

He shook his head.

"Adam."

"No." If he went home, she'd leave and he wasn't ready for her to go again. Not yet. "Can't we stay a little while?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be alone."

She smiled. "You'll probably go right to sleep."

She was right. He knew that. And, when he woke up, she'd be gone. Didn't she see he couldn't waste his chance to be with her now? "Please?"

"We really should go."

Adam pushed himself up and took her face in his hands. "Please?" he repeated as he kissed her.

She pushed him back. "Adam?"

His fingers caressing the nape of her neck, he rested his forehead against hers. "Stay with me."

"I . . ."

He met her gaze, his eyes pleading with her to say yes. "Don't leave me yet."

She returned his stare, searching his face as she made her decision. "Okay. But not for long."

"I understand," he replied. He changed the angle of his head, bringing his mouth closer to hers. "I've missed you."

"Yeah."

He knew he shouldn't do what he was about to do. It just showed his weakness. But he was desperate. He couldn't go on like this for much longer. "Make it go away."

"What?"

"The hurt," he whispered.

"Oh, Adam," she sighed. And he knew she would.

He tilted her head and brushed his mouth over hers. She didn't protest or pull away and he deepened the kiss. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him something wasn't right, that things were different somehow. Adam ignored it. Of course, things were different. Joan wasn't his anymore. This was just a brief reprieve.

He lay back on the bed, taking Joan with him. She whimpered as he swept his tongue over her lips. She opened for him and arched into his touch as his hand slid down her back to her waist. Using his fingertips, he gathered her shirt and slipped his hand under it.

She tore her mouth from his and gaze down at him. Her breathing was ragged. "What am I . . . we can't do this. It's wrong," she panted.

For a long moment, Adam simply returned her gaze, his disappointment swelling inside him. She was right. You don't sleep with your ex, especially when one of you has no intention of getting back together. What had sex ever solved anyway? "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, stroking his cheek.

He turned his face away from her. He couldn't stand her affection right now, not when it wasn't permanent. It would just make things worse; just make him want her more. Then why were there tears trickling from his eyes? Ashamed and embarrassed, Adam turned away from her completely and hid his face in his pillow.

"Adam," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. He shook it off. "Adam?"

"Just leave it alone. It was stupid."

The silence following his statement lasted so long, it began to ring in his ears.

"I do want you," she whispered. She laid her hand on him again. "I've wanted you almost from the beginning."

He didn't answer. So she wanted him. It didn't make any difference. They could want each other until hell froze over, but if they weren't getting back together—and she'd made it pretty clear that they weren't—then wanting wasn't enough.

Her lips grazing his neck startled him, but not as much as her hand sliding under his shirt. He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from going any further. "Don't start something you aren't going to see through."

"I miss you, Adam. The last two weeks, it hasn't been the same without you."

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The little voice that told him things weren't quite right screamed at him now. But it was Joan and she was here and maybe she was as miserable as he was and wanted to end their ridiculous split. Adam let go of her wrist. "All right."

She smiled the big, luminous smile that always made his heart beat faster. Turning over on his back, Adam returned her smile and tugged her to him. He groaned as her hands tunneled under his shirt, her nails lightly raking over his chest and nipples. Sliding his hands up her arms, he leaned into her and claimed her mouth. As she squirmed against him, he slid his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. She gasped at the feel of his arousal against her. He moaned when she swiveled her hips into his.

As eager as he was to get closer to her, Adam's body felt increasingly heavy. There were so many things he wanted to do with her and, yet he couldn't seem to muster the strength to do them. Joan's mouth moved to his neck and worked its way down to his chest. When she sucked one of his nipples into her mouth and nipped it, he decided to let her have her way.

Adam arched under her hands and mouth as she leisurely made her way down his chest. His breathing became more ragged as she delved into his navel with her tongue, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. He swallowed a muffled cry as her hands stroked his erection. He tried to speak. He wanted to tell her how she was making him feel, but he couldn't translate the sensations into words. Then he felt her lips wrap around him and he couldn't think at all.

She slowly worked her way down his length, her tongue languidly stroking its underside and head. Adam balled his fists in the comforter beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. He felt like he was spinning higher and more out of control than he'd ever been. He couldn't seem to remember to breathe and, God help him, he didn't think he could contain himself much longer. "Please," he panted. "I can't . . . I need you."

She released him and crawled up his frame, her body brushing against his aching member. He shuddered as it passed between her breasts. A groan escaped him as she sank her teeth into his neck, her tongue flickering over his hammering pulse. He slid his hands up her thighs and under her skirt as she worked her way up his neck. As she cradled his head and took his mouth, he gripped her panties and tugged. In the process of removing her underpants, he ended up on top, his erection pressed against her hot, damp center.

He tore his mouth from hers. "Are you sure?" he whispered as he swept her hair off her face.

In answer, she ran her hand down his chest, gripped his arousal, and guided him into her. "Oh," he moaned as he sank deeper. The annoying voice in the back of his mind wondered why it was so easy to enter her, but Adam ignored it. He completely forgot the question when she flexed around him. He only knew he had to move.

Moving slowly, Adam tried to establish the right rhythm. He didn't want to rush it. Closing his eyes, he was amazed at how good it felt to finally be inside her. With one hand lodged in his hair and the other one digging into his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust.

Adam felt his body slowing. Frowning, he tried to reestablish his pace only to notice that the edges of his consciousness were dimming. Somehow, he knew his time with her was running out. Sliding his hands over her face, he kissed her, deep and sweet. Vaguely, he heard the door open and someone say "What the . . .?"

He ended the kiss and smiled down at her despite the rapidly encroaching darkness. "I love you, Jane," he whispered. Then the darkness overtook him.

* * *

Light, sharp and harsh, beat against Adam's eyelids. Groaning, he turned his face into his pillow and took a mental inventory. Aside from his eyes hurting, his head was killing him, his stomach demanded the release of vomiting, and his entire body felt unusually weak. What the hell had he done last night to make him feel this bad?

Joan.

He jerked upright, causing his stomach to lurch and his head to pound. Fighting through the pain, he searched the room for Joan. Instead, he found Caitlin sitting in his desk chair. "Morning, stud."

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was thin and raspy.

"That's not the nicest way to greet the person who spent the night looking after your ass," she observed calmly as she stretched her legs out and propped them on the end of the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he glanced at Corey's side of the room. His roommate wasn't there. "What are you talking about? Where's Corey?"

"Corey's not here," she answered. His confusion grew at the taut anger in her voice. He wondered if they'd had a fight last night and she was still pissed at him. "Do you remember last night?"

He shook his head and the motion was too much. Shoving his sheets aside, he stumbled out of bed and grabbed the wastebasket in time to hurl. The sound made his head hurt worse and the putrid odor made him vomit more. When he finally stopped, he was shaking, his hand pressed against the floor the only thing keeping him up. "Oh, God," he gasped.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you chase three beers with the equivalent of a triple shot of Schnapps on an empty stomach." Adam wanted to glare at his smart-assed caretaker, but was too weak to gather the tiny amount of energy it would take to look at her. "Be happy I didn't have to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped."

Adam gave up the effort to stay upright and collapsed against the side of his bed and sighed. He couldn't seem to stop shivering.

"Here."

Letting his head roll toward her, he spied a paper towel in her outstretched hand. "Thank you," he whispered as he took it and wiped his mouth.

"Now this." She held out a small glass of water. At his arched eyebrow, Caitlin said, "Rinse and spit. That trash bag's a goner anyway."

Adam did as he was told, grateful to her in spite of himself.

"And these." She handed him a pack of crackers as she took his water glass.

"Why are you doing all of this for me?" he asked as he nibbled the crackers.

"It's what I do," she replied with a shrug. She was rooting around in his dresser. He was too tired to object to this. Then she aimed a cheeky grin at him over her shoulder. "I take care of drunks."

He found the energy to glare at her. "I'm not a drunk," he stated, simultaneously offended and amused.

"Well, you did a damn fine impression of one last night." She turned back toward him and handed him a shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

For the first time, he realized he only had on his boxers. He blushed and Caitlin began to laugh. "Mind tell me what's so funny?" he asked bitterly as he jerk the shirt on. The whole situation was embarrassing enough without her laughing at him. Her laughter didn't help his headache either.

"_This_ isn't what you need to be embarrassed about," she said matter-of-factly as she took out a pair of socks. "I saw much more of you last night."

With one leg in his pants, Adam stilled and gaped at her. Since there had only been one part of him covered when she'd begun to laugh . . . The blood drained from his face when he realized exactly what she meant. Dear God, what had he done?

"Put on your pants," she said gently. "Go on," she prompted when he just stood there staring at her.

Adam finished putting on his pants then sat down again. Caitlin joined him on the floor and handed him the socks. She nudged the trashcan away as he put them on. Then she looked at him, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

Pulling his knees up to his chin, he wrapped his arms around them and tried to recall the previous night. "Corey talked me into going to the party," he began slowly. "I didn't want to go but I did so he'd leave me alone. Since I didn't know anybody, I got a beer and sat down. Three beers later, Corey told me to start acting like I was at a party. Then I went to the kitchen and that's when things get fuzzy."

"Do you remember getting the Schnapps?"

"Yes. You took it from me before I could drink any more of it."

"Do you remember falling on me?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Then you took me to the bedroom?"

"Right," she confirmed, "and I put you in bed and went to look for someone to bring you home."

"Then how did you see . . . what you saw?" he asked.

"Do you remember anything else after that?" Caitlin prompted.

He laid his head on his knees and tried to think past the still-throbbing pain of his head. His stomach had begun to settle but his headache was extremely resistant. Finally, he said, "I went to sleep and dreamt of Jane. She was in the room with me and we talked and we, um, we . . . you know."

Caitlin sighed and pursed her lips as if she was trying to figure out how to tell him something.

"Did you and I do something . . ."

"No," she said. "No, we didn't do anything. Though, come to think of it, you did throw up on me in the cab."

That explained why she was wearing his Iron Maiden t-shirt. "Sorry about that."

She shrugged his apology off as she turned toward him and met his eyes. "Adam, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but, while you were dreaming of Joan, you had sex with someone else."

The air whooshed out of him and tears stung the back of his eyes. He blinked them back and tried to wrap his mind around what she'd just told him. No matter how hard he tried, it sounded too fantastic to be believable. Finally, he said, "It was real?"

Caitlin nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to ask the next question. "Did I force her?"

"Not from what I could tell."

"Was she drunk, too?"

"No."

Nodding, he buried his face in his lap. Why was this happening to him? This couldn't be happening to him. There was still hope that he'd wake up and this conversation would turn out to be a nightmare, right? Sure, and he'd wake up in his bed back in Arcadia to find his mother alive and well. Could things get any more fucked up than they were right now?

"She was pretty heart-broken, though," Caitlin mused quietly. "Before she ran off, she said she thought you were talking about her, not Joan."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he gaped at her. "I know the girl?" He hadn't known anyone there except Corey and Caitlin.

"It was Ashley."

Laughing bitterly, Adam fell back against the side of his bed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "How did . . .why was she even there?"

"I called her to come get you," Caitlin admitted. "I would have brought you home myself in the first place, but Corey refused to leave even after I told him how bad off you were. Since I didn't want to leave him by himself—the words moderation and abstinence mean nothing to him—I tried to get someone else to take you home. No one would, so I looked through Steve's student directory and found Ashley's number. Before she showed up, I went to the corner store to get you some coffee. Steve never has any. When I got back, you two were having sex and you fainted on top of her."

"Shit." What had he ever done to deserve this?

"I'm really sorry, Adam."

"I'm the one who got wasted and delusional. It's not your fault, Cait." She shrugged, her face full with remorse. Adam wondered just how much he'd misjudged her. "So you brought me home?"

She nodded. "I couldn't leave you there. Not after what happened. And since I was pissed with Corey anyway, I decided to leave him and bring you home. I straightened your clothes—something I never want to do again . . ."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Exactly what every guy wants to hear."

Caitlin laughed. "We're barely friends and I touched . . . . I don't want to do that with someone who always curls up in a ball when I'm around."

"I don't . . ."

"Yeah, you do." She smiled at him and Adam felt relieved to know she didn't hold it again him. "With good reason. Anyway, I managed to get you down to the street and hail a taxi and get you here. You were so out of it, you went right to sleep and I took a shower, borrowed some clothes, and kept an eye on you to make sure you wouldn't need to be rushed to the hospital."

They stared at each other in silence. Adam couldn't believe he'd missed this side of her, that he hadn't seen past all the black clothes, dark, flat hair, and pale-skinned weirdness. There had been a time when he would have noticed the kind, genuine girl hiding beneath the façade he'd bought into for the past year and a half. Had he really changed so much that he no longer noticed the reality beneath the lies people told? "Thank you for taking care of me and everything."

"I'm not done yet."

"You got me through the night without a trip to the hospital. What more is there?"

She grinned. "The obligatory you-don't-want-to-know-what's-in-it-but-it'll-knock-that-pesky-hangover-right-out drink. It's waiting for you in the fridge."

"Is it really that bad?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It really is, but you don't need to drink all of it," she answered as she got to her feet and headed to the refrigerator.

She sat next to him and handed him the drink. It was a grayish-green shake-like substance. He looked at her, hoping she'd smile and say this wasn't the real stuff he had to drink. Instead, she motioned for him to get on with it. Closing his eyes and deciding to trust her, Adam downed as much of it as he could stand before handing it back and trying not to gag. She dumped the rest of it in the trash and tied the bag closed.

"Now," she said, "you should take a shower or a nap, your choice, then we can go over your options."

"My options?" he asked, waiting for the chalky taste to go away.

"I assume you'll want to talk to Ashley. Make sure she's okay and all. And you have a final tomorrow, which you haven't study for. And an insensitive ass of a roommate to deal with. And a broken heart to mend." Caitlin frowned. "Man, the end of the year sucks for you."

"Yeah." That was putting it mildly.

"I'm sorry about Joan. I didn't know."

"Thanks. Nobody knew except Corey, but that's because he heard us fighting."

"So Ashley didn't know?"

Adam shook his head. "I didn't want to talk about it, so I kinda distanced myself from everybody."

"It'll get better," she said quietly.

"I don't know. She was . . ." he paused to find the right word, "everything. She was my everything."

Caitlin took his hand in hers. Before today, he'd have slowly taken his hand back, afraid she was making a move on him. Now, he recognized it for what it was, a gesture of comfort. "It's never a good idea to make someone your everything. They're bound to disappoint you. The best you can do is give them your all. Believe it or not, they're not the same thing."

"Personal experience?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"Too much of it."

"Then I'll keep it in mind," he said as he got up. He offered her a hand, which she lightly slapped aside before getting to her feet on her own. "I think I'm going to take that nap you suggested."

She slipped on her shoes as he got in bed. "And I'm going to take your keys and ID and get my books so I'll have something to do while I'm here."

"I'm fine, Caitlin."

"We established that at the party, stud."

He couldn't help laughing. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, well, I'm a full-service caretaker of drunks. I clean the during and after messes. This is one big after mess."

"Yeah."

"Besides," she said as she picked up the trash and headed for the door, "it seems like you could use a friend."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gently closed the door behind her.


	12. Adjustments

A/N: Just to let you know-it only going to get worse before it gets better. Because it's an alternative to both _Starting Over _and _We've Only Just Begun_, it will encompass approximately the same time span. This story will probably be at least 30 chapters, I think. I have to finish the outline. In the meantime, you'll just have to trust me. I haven't let you down so far, have I? Alexandri.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Grace asked as Ben pushed open the front door of Beta Beta Beta or whatever frat it was that Eric belonged to.

Ben shrugged. "Thought we could do something different tonight."

Grace looked around, taking in the plastic sorority girls clutching their plastic red cups and the drunken fraternity boys crowding around the keg. "Different," she grumbled. "Not exactly the word I would use."

"You want something to drink?" Ben shouted above the sound of the band tuning up. She merely nodded. "Coke okay?" Another nod by her and he disappeared into the crowd of backwards-baseball-cap-wearing guys and tight, midriff-revealing-shirt-wearing girls. He'd learned the hard way about her mom over the summer when he'd come to Arcadia. "Here you go," he said, handing her a red plastic cup when he returned several minutes later. His eyes darted around the room as if he were looking for someone. "Hey, look, there's Joan," he said, waving wildly. Joan smiled and raised her hand, returning the wave.

Reluctantly, Grace followed Ben. Ever since they'd returned for the fall semester a month ago, she hadn't had more than five minutes alone with him. When Jimmy wasn't barging into Ben's dorm room at the most inappropriate times, Ben himself was inviting Joan on their dates. If Grace were paranoid, she might think that Ben was more interested in Joan than her.

"Hey guys," Joan shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought we'd check out the band," Ben answered. Grace just grunted in response.

Another person sidled up to their little group. "I hope Miller Lite's okay," Eric said, handing her a cup.

"Yeah, it's fine," Joan replied, taking the proffered red plastic cup. "You remember Grace and Ben?"

Ben stuck out his hand. "Nice to see you again, Eric." Grace knew him well enough to know that this was Ben's fake nice voice.

"You, too," Eric said, shaking hands with Ben. Grace rolled her eyes at their obvious display of alpha male-ness. "I'm kind of surprised to see you here."

"Joan said you guys were having a live band," Ben said loudly.

"Yeah, they're friends of mine."

The conversation petered out as the president of the fraternity stepped to the microphone to introduce the band. All the drunk people cheered loudly and the band began to play. Grace had to admit that they sounded pretty good even if they were playing some top 40 crap. However, the minute the lead singer opened his mouth, she changed her mind.

"He's awful," she leaned over and whispered in Ben's ear. "Let's get out of here."

Ben's eyes flitted over to where Joan leaned against the wall, touching shoulders with Eric. "Um, maybe they'll get better?" he whispered back. Trying to ignore the shivers that shot down her spine at the feeling of his breath on her ear, Grace sighed and nodded.

The next five songs did nothing to improve the lead singer's voice or Grace's mood. Mercifully, the band announced they were going to take a short break. As they left the stage, the beer-swilling Neanderthals gave the band high fives.

"That was…interesting," Joan finally said.

"This is their first gig," Eric explained with a shrug, bumping his shoulder against Joan's.

"And their last hopefully," Ben muttered. Grace began to think there was hope for him after all.

Eric pushed himself off the wall and leaned into Ben's personal space. "And I suppose _you_ could do better."

"Well, I don't…know…about that," Ben stammered out.

"I bet you can't," Eric challenged.

Ben's eyes swung from Eric to Joan and back again. Just as Grace thought he'd back down, he surprised her by saying, "How much?"

"Fifty bucks." Eric pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and, opening it, took out a fifty-dollar bill.

"Are you crazy?" Grace said fiercely. When he didn't answer, she prompted, "Ben? You're not seriously considering this."

"Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend, Cohen," Eric said with a smirk.

"Guys, this is insane," Joan chimed in.

"I just have to go up there and sing?" Ben clarified.

"And get applause." Eric's smirk widened. "And I get to pick the song."

"What if I don't know it?" Ben was now leaning into Eric's personal space.

"Fine, we'll agree on one you know," Eric retorted. "The new U2?" Ben shook his head. "Three Doors Down?" Another shake. Grace thought she was going to puke; could Eric have any more pedestrian tastes in music? "Maroon 5?"

"Depends on the song."

"The new one."

Ben shook his head. "Don't know it."

"Do you know _any_ music?"

"Elvis Costello, Clash, Talking Heads," Ben replied with a shrug.

"They…" Eric pointed. "…don't know any of that."

"Um, I know this one song by Hooba something, I think." Grace nearly fell over; Ben did not just admit to knowing a Hoobastank song, did he?

"Hoobastank?" Eric asked eagerly.

Ben snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Hoobastank. It was all over the radio a couple of years ago." He hummed the first few notes.

"_The Reason_?" Eric said with a grin. "You know the words to that song?"

Nodding, Ben said, "Yeah, is that a problem?"

Eric smothered a laugh. "Not at all. I'll go tell them."

Ben turned to find both Grace and Joan gaping at him. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Grace demanded angrily. "Can you even sing?"

Ben shrugged. "We'll find out, won't we?" Five minutes later, the band came back out and the lead singer made an announcement that they were going to have a special guest singer. Eric, who'd returned a moment before, nodded and motioned for Ben to take the stage. Ben nodded back and climbed onto the stage. The keyboard player plunked out the opening notes and the drummer joined in.

"The lead singer of Hoobastank couldn't even hit these notes live," Joan said to Eric.

"Hey, he suggested it," Eric defended himself.

The guitarist played a few notes and Ben, closing his eyes, started to sing. "I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go." His eyes popped open. "That I just want you to know." As he belted out the chorus, the entire room went crazy. The backwards-baseball-cap-wearing boys had their hands waving in the air as the midriff-bearing girls swayed back and forth. For the second verse, Ben got cocky and, plucking the microphone from its stand, walked back and forth across the small stage, occasionally taking a high five from a frat boy.

Grace glanced at Eric who was staring in open-mouthed shock and she would have laughed if she weren't so angry. What was Ben doing, taking Eric up on his dare? It almost seemed as if he were jealous of the older guy, jealous of his friendship with Joan. _Ben is mine_, she thought bitterly. He was the one guy who didn't fall all over himself around Joan. Or at least he was last semester and this past summer.

The song ended and Ben jumped down from the stage, accepting more high fives from the guys and a few hugs from the girls. Grinning triumphantly, he made his way to Joan, Eric, and Grace. Eric scowled before shoving the fifty-dollar bill at Ben and leaving.

"Ben, that was amazing," Joan said, throwing her arms around him.

He shrugged. "I wasn't Woodlawn High School _Warrior Idol_ two years running for nothing."

"You played him?" It was the first thing Grace had said since he returned.

Another shrug. "You guys up for some coffee and pie?" He waved the fifty. "It's on me."

"I'm going back to the apartment. You two have fun," Grace said bitterly, striding away. While she was angry, she was also strangely proud of Ben. Who else, besides herself, could have masterminded that trap that Eric had walked into? Halfway back to bus stop, Ben caught up with her.

"Grace!" he shouted, sprinting toward her. As he tried to catch his breath, he asked her why she'd left.

"Didn't feel like being the third wheel," she said, not bothering to wait for him.

"Third wheel?" he said, moving in front of her to prevent her from moving.

"Yeah, you and Girardi make a cute couple. I hope you're happy together," she said, trying to step around him. He moved too.

"Me and Joan?" he asked, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's obvious that you like her," she said angrily. "And now that she's single you've got a chance."

"Oh, Grace," he said quietly. "You've got it completely wrong. I don't like Joan…not like that."

"Then why is it that everything we do includes her now?" she cried out, hating the shaky tone of her voice.

Ben looked away and he blushed slightly, mumbling something. She asked him to repeat it. "I…can't…really tell…you," he repeated, slightly louder, still not looking at her.

"Fine. Don't tell me!" She managed to move around him and walked quickly toward the bus stop.

"Goddamnit, Grace!" Ben shouted. "Don't walk away from me!"

She rounded on him. "And what gives you the right to make demands on me?"

"Because I'm in love with you!" he blurted out furiously. Grace's eyes widened and he shook his head. "That's not how I wanted to tell you," he mumbled. Grace quickly closed the distance between them.

"What?" she asked in a low tone.

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. Green eyes locked on blue. "I'm in love with you. I love you, Grace."

"But... Girardi?" she sputtered out.

Ben sighed. "You have to promise not to tell her," he finally said. Grace nodded mutely. "I promised Adam that I'd look after Joan."

"But they're…broken up."

"I know. But I don't trust Donnelly. And I don't want to see Joan get hurt." He paused before smiling shyly at her. "I'm sorry that I've been inviting her along all the time. I never meant for you to think that I was interested in her." The shy smile was replaced by a grin. "I never pegged you for the jealous type, Polk."

Grace's mouth opened in astonishment. "I'm _not_ jealous. I just thought that…" Her voice trailed off as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, hand lingering on her cheek. He pulled her gently toward him and kissed her.

"I love you, Grace," he said softly when they broke apart.

"I…I love you, too."

Ben's face broke into a wide smile. "That's good to hear. 'Cause I have a very important question to ask you."

"And what's that?" she managed between lingering kisses.

"What did you think of my singing?"

"I thought you weren't bad," she replied with a laugh.

"Not bad?" he repeated, wounded note in his voice. He stepped away from her. "Didn't you hear that room go crazy?"

"They were drunk," she said dryly.

"They…drunk…you…" He couldn't even string together a coherent sentence. Grace laughed again before wrapping her arms around him and pressing her mouth to his. Her tongue parted the seam of his mouth before plunging in. They kissed for several moments before he tore his mouth away. "You can't kiss me and make me forget," he said stoically as her tongue traced the shell of his ear before poking in very slowly and deliberately. Ben groaned and Grace couldn't help smiling.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, surprised at the huskiness of her voice.

"I…may…be…able…to…be…convinced," he panted out.

"How's that?" Her lips moved from his ear to his jaw.

"Use your imagination." He turned his head and captured her mouth. Tables turned, Grace found herself unable to think as she clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer.

"What about Girardi?" she asked.

"Joan's a big girl." He paused. "And besides, if she's here, she's not at your apartment."

"Good point," Grace conceded as she dragged him toward the bus stop.

* * *

Eric spotted Joan standing by herself on the other side of the room. He was a little uncertain about what to do next. While he was glad to see that Cohen and Polk were gone, he hated the unhappy look on Joan's face. Nothing he'd done in the past month had gotten rid of it. Her lingering sadness over breaking up with Adam enveloped her persistently. Caught between wanting to comfort her and wanting to woo her, he'd been walking on eggshells since term started. Pushing the grimace off his own face, he worked his way to her.

"Where's…Ben and Grace?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant.

"Either Grace has killed him or they're..." Her voice trailed off. "Actually, I'd prefer not to speculate on what they're doing."

Eric laughed. "Fair enough." Grace was attractive enough with the blonde hair and blue eyes and dimple in her chin, but her attitude did nothing for Eric. He preferred a more personable kind of girl. A girl with a bright, ready smile and an infectious laugh and warm, welcoming eyes. Like Joan. Feeling slightly guilty, he pushed that thought out of his mind. "Wanna get some coffee?"

"That'd be nice." They left the fraternity house and went to their favorite coffee shop on campus. With two mochachinos in front of them, they settled in at the corner table. "So, how's life as a grad student?"

Eric shrugged. "Same as an undergrad mostly." For some reason, he felt unusually shy around Joan lately. Ever since the moment he'd first seen her on the library steps his junior year, he'd wanted her. He'd gone out of his way to find out what he could about her. He'd joined, and stayed in, badminton club to get close to her despite his personal distaste for the "sport." He'd talked up his major in hopes of encouraging her to take classes in the discipline.

Even after he'd found out about her boyfriend, he'd quietly pursued her. After all, her boyfriend was in New York and he was here was her. Eric knew from personal experience that long-distance relationships were extremely fragile. As optimistic as Joan tried to be about the situation, he'd known it was only a matter of time before the relationship crumbled. However, after her breakup with Adam, Eric began to feel guilty. As if it were his fault. And the change in Joan's personality worried him. "How are you, Joan?"

"Me?" Joan asked, startled by the sudden break of silence. "I'm fine. Never been better." At his arched eyebrow, she continued, "What?"

"It's just that you seem…" He paused searching for the right word. Unable to find it, he lapsed into silence.

"Ben kinda scammed you tonight," Joan said quietly. When he looked up, she was smirking at him.

"Yeah, he did," Eric admitted. He'd made quite a fool of himself tonight. He wanted to be angry. He knew that Cohen neither liked nor trusted him, especially where Joan was concerned. It had been for that very reason that Eric had challenged him in the first place: payback for intruding on his alone time with Joan. But Eric had a hard time maintaining his anger and dislike for Cohen when he knew the guy was just looking out for Joan. Right now, her well-being was the important thing, not his ego. At least, that's what he told himself after ten minutes of fuming. "I gotta hand it to him. I walked right into it."

"Actually, I think you ran toward it," Joan said, smirk turning into a grin.

He had no choice but to grin back. "I did, didn't I?" She burst into laugher and he joined her. For a moment, things felt like they had last year, like the old Joan was back. "I hope Polk was duly impressed."

"You don't like Grace that much, do you?" Joan asked, turning serious.

Shrugging, he replied, "She's okay, I guess. Little intense for me."

"Grace is…my friend. She's been there for me…during some tough times," Joan said sadly.

Knowing she was talking about her breakup with Adam, Eric said softly, "I'm your friend, too. You can talk to me."

"Eric, it's different." She took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "We don't have that kind of friendship."

"We can."

Sadly, she shook her head. "No, we can't."

"Why not?" He knew exactly why not. Because of his attraction to her. And because, he suspected and shamefully hoped, of her attraction to him. Every other day, he doubted his own motives toward Joan. Was he really trying to help her feel better or was he simply trying to worm his way into her heart when she was most vulnerable? If her feelings for him were anywhere near as confused, he could only imagine she did the same.

"Just can't," she replied simply, taking another sip.

"I'm worried about you."

"I told you, I'm fine," she said with an edge to her voice.

"Joan, I know your grades have slipped. I see you space out. In class, at badminton practice, during dinner." She shook her head, but he needed to point these things out to her, and she needed to hear them. "Have you…have you thought about…talking to someone?" He held up a hand. "Not me. Not Grace. Someone…professional."

"You want me to see a shrink!" The vehemence in her voice surprised him frankly.

"Maybe just a peer counselor or something," he replied slowly, thinking there was more going on here than his suggestion.

"I'm fine." She drained her cup and, standing suddenly, she left.

* * *

Joan opened the door to the apartment quietly. She wasn't even sure if Grace and Ben were here. The stereo in the living room was playing something that sounded familiar to her. That answered her question about whether someone was home.

"Grace?" she said cautiously. She peered down the short hallway to Grace's room. The door was open. Thinking that was odd, she made her way to the living room and realized that _her_ Sarah McLachlan Live CD was playing. That was even odder. Glancing into the kitchen, Joan came to a halt. Grace was standing at the stove, poking a spatula in a frying pan. She was wearing a button down shirt that looked suspiciously like the shirt Ben had been wearing earlier. The refrigerator door was open. It closed, revealing Ben. Joan watched as Ben came up behind Grace and wrapped his arms around her waist. He whispered something in her ear and, to Joan's immense surprise, Grace Polk giggled and blushed. Ben reached out; taking the spatula out of her hand, he deftly flipped a pancake into the air. Grace turned in his arms and planted a kiss on Ben's mouth. Joan turned away, feeling like she was intruding on something very intimate and private.

"Girardi!" Grace yelped, looking over. Ben stepped in front of Grace protectively and Joan fought the urge to laugh. While she'd seen Grace in less, she'd never seen a bare-chested Ben before.

Ben must have realized that he was standing there in only his jeans because he blushed and stammered something about getting his T-shirt. Slipping past Joan, he disappeared in the direction of Grace's room.

"Well, that was chivalrous," she commented, arching an eyebrow at Grace, who tried to scowl. "I take it you two had a nice time." Grace shrugged. "C'mon, Grace. You're listening to Sarah McLachlan. Ben must have done _something_ to convince you to agree to that."

Grace was saved from answering by Ben returning to the kitchen, wearing his T-shirt. He handed Grace her pajama pants. "Thought you might want these," he said quietly. When she pulled them on, he turned away slightly. Joan thought the two of them were entirely too adorable for words. "Hey, Joan, you want some pancakes?" he asked.

"Sure."

A few minutes later, the three of them sat around the living room, balancing plates on their laps. There was no talking, only the sound of forks scraping against plates.

"Those were delicious," Joan said, setting her plate on the coffee table and sitting back in the armchair.

"Thanks," Ben said. Grace smacked him on the arm. "Well, Grace made them." The two of them were sitting together on the couch. Grace stood and, collecting the plates, took them into the kitchen.

Joan watched, amused, as Ben's eyes followed her. She cleared her throat and his head snapped back toward her. "Joan, I…uh…hope it's not weird…me being here…and all," he stammered.

Joan gave him a look. "If I thought it would be weird with you here, I never would have urged Grace to talk to you last year."

Ben flushed slightly. "Yeah, about that. I don't think I ever said thanks."

"Thanks for what?" Grace asked, walking back into the living room and settling down next to Ben again.

"For convincing you to give us a chance," Ben said. Joan was not expecting him to be quite so honest. He motioned with his head toward Joan.

"What?" Grace said. "You want me to thank her, too? Do you know how insufferable she'll be if she thinks this is all because of her?"

"Well, it is, isn't it?" Joan piped up.

"Please, Girardi."

As the three of them bickered good naturedly about who was exactly responsible for what exactly, Ben's arm snaked around Grace's shoulders. Her hand rested lightly on his leg. Joan blinked back unexpected tears as an image of her and Adam sitting like that countless times came to mind.

"Um, maybe I should go?" Ben said hesitantly.

Joan looked up to find both of them staring at her. She waved her hand, saying, "I'm fine, really."

Ben stood. "No, it's okay. I should head back to my dorm."

Joan stood up, too. "You should stay. I'm just…I'm just tired." She faked a yawn. "I should get to bed." She bid them both good night and, right before she left the room, she said, "And if you're not here in the morning, Cohen, I'm going to be angry, okay?"

"Okay," Ben agreed.

The minute Joan closed her bedroom door behind her, the tears ran freely down her face. She and Adam had broken up months ago. She should be okay with it. She should be over it. In fact, she should've been over it after it happened. It was her idea after all. Sniffling, she wondered if maybe Eric was right.

* * *

A full moon lit the October night sky. The wind ruffled Adam's hair as he sat beneath a tree in the garden behind his dormitory. A stack of unopened letters lay waiting in his lap. He didn't want to read them. They reminded him of what waited for him back in the States. At least, they would once he read them. The summer had been hell for him. No matter what he did, he hadn't been able to get Joan or his night of drunken debauchery out of his mind. It had been too fresh, too close. Italy, however, was a place apart from the chaos of his real life. Though thoughts of his last few weeks at school still plagued him, he was able to go for long stretches of time without dwelling on the farce his life had become.

Knowing it couldn't be put it off forever, Adam opened the first letter. It was from his father and, by far, the easiest one to read. Carl was doing well; his back still wasn't bothering him. Adam smiled at this. His father often teased him for worrying about his health, especially his back pains. Carl was, however, worried about Adam. He'd picked up a distinct vibe of unhappiness in Adam's letters and hoped he wasn't too homesick. Other than that, everything was fine and he couldn't wait to see Adam at Christmas.

Still smiling, Adam set his father's letter aside and picked up Caitlin's. After the last of their spring finals, she'd given him her address in Florida and demanded that he write her. He'd done as requested partly because Caitlin was pretty formidable and partly because he suspected she'd be a much better friend to him than he'd had since coming to New York.

Since the debacle at Corey's friend's party, Adam had repeatedly analyzed every memory of what and who he'd been in New York. Looking back, he could admit that Joan had been right when she'd said he was a different person around Joe, Tyler, and Ashley. He'd been different around most of his art school acquaintances. So much of his artistic life had been solitary before going to NYU. He hadn't known what to expect of the other students; in fact, he hadn't really thought about it before arriving.

In all fairness, he'd met several art school students who weren't pretentious, most of them in the more practical disciplines such as jewelry making and printmaking. But the same had been true of him and his trio. Somewhere along the way, they'd gotten caught up in the hype of teachers like Mark and forgotten to be themselves. At least, Adam had. Talking to Caitlin helped him regained the person he'd once been.

"Adam, hey," her letter began, "I know you couldn't possibly care about what's going on here in New York (can you believe it's fifty degrees? Fifty! Freakish weather.) when you're lounging about in sultry Italy, but I thought I'd tell you anyway. You don't want to be completely out of the loop when you get back, do you? Stocks are up, gas is down, there have been few good sales, and school sucks without someone to harass. So when do you get back? Just kidding. Really, there's nothing going on here. And I'm BORED. That was one good thing about role-playing. The players may have been kind of freaky, but they knew how to party.

"Let's see. What else? I've decided on a major, finally. My parents are proud to see I've actually made up my mind about something. When you get back, you'll be looking at a proud, new public relations major. Unless I come to find the idea of being a PR person distasteful by the time you get here, which is starting to sound like a real possibility. Maybe I haven't thought this all the way through.

"On a more serious note, I saw Ashley the other day. We didn't talk long (I think she was embarrassed since I know about what happened and all) but I think she's doing okay. I thought you'd want to know. I hope you're finding what you need in Florence. You were pretty bad here and worse at summer camp. Your last letter actually made me smile instead of hold back tears of sadness. My fifteen-year-old cousin says that's because I'm a Pisces and, therefore, unduly sensitive to everyone else's problems. Maybe that's true, but I can hardly wait for you to get back here so I can see for myself if you're really better. Write me, okay? A good, long letter with no sugarcoating. Be better.

"Caitlin."

Slowly refolding her letter, Adam marveled at how quickly he and Caitlin had become friends and how grateful he was to her. While he hadn't really severed his ties with Ashley, Joe and Tyler, his behavior after the breakup and the incident with Ashley had put a serious strain on their relationship. Adam honestly didn't know if he wanted to fix it. On the one hand, they were his friends and had been for two years. On the other hand, being around them brought out the worst in him while burying the best. He didn't want to be the kind of person he'd been when Joan had visited over break and he didn't want to be the kind of person who didn't notice the good person Caitlin was. Even if he did want to be cool with them again, he wasn't sure it was possible.

Shoving his thoughts aside, he opened his last letter and began to read.

"This is the last letter I'm sending you, Rove. My mother keeps insisting I send you care packages like you're a refugee in Uganda or something and it's getting too expensive. Do you know how much international postage rates are? It's an example of the blatant, capitalistic government scams America has perpetrated on its citizens throughout history. It can't reasonably cost almost twenty dollars to send a small box of random stuff. Get an email address, dude, or you won't hear from me again until you get back.

"How are you doing? I know you probably don't want to talk about it. I don't blame you. I really don't know what to say myself. It's hard when your two best friends are hurting. It's even harder when they're hurting for the same reason. I don't know what to say to you or Girardi without twisting the knife. On top of it all, I'm beginning to feel like Ben and I should downplay our relationship.If it's any consolation, I know Girardi really misses you.

"If you need anything, tell me. Anything at all. Well, no hugs or crying over the phone or handholding or anything like that. You know what I mean. Enjoy Italy. Who knows when you'll be able to go again? Remember if you ever need to talk, I'm here.

"Grace

"P.S.

"Ben said to tell you that he's still keeping his promise. I know what he's talking about, by the way, and I never thought you'd be involved in such a sexist, demeaning scheme. You never were entirely rational where Girardi was concerned. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think it's a good thing that you and Ben have this arrangement because I'm worried about her. But I don't want you to. We'll take care of her. What have you people done to me?

"G"

The moon hung low by the time Adam finished reading; so low it seemed to Adam that he could touch it if he stretched far enough. He wanted to laugh, or at least smile, at the whimsical thought but he couldn't. He was all out of smiles. Laughter felt like a distant memory. He hated the thought of Joan hurting. He'd told her he couldn't promise not to hate her, but he didn't. He didn't hate her at all; he just missed her so much that he didn't know how to fix the hole she'd left in his life.

Shivering in the warm night breeze, Adam stared up at the moon, tears streaming down his cheeks, and tried to will Joan's face out of his mind. His brain, long numbed to the near-debilitating pain of his heart, tormented him with a thousand mental snapshots of her beloved face. That morning it had been the image of her awaking up in his arms Christmas before last — content and trusting. That afternoon during workshop he'd sculpted her pleased expression when he'd given her the cheerleader sculpture. But now all he could see were the tears clinging to her eyelashes as she'd stared up at him at Penn Station, forcing him to promise to make their break-up "worth it." He felt her last kiss on his lips, trembling and salty with their tears. He heard again the slight hitch in her voice as she said goodbye and ran to the train.

For the thousandth time, he wondered how he was supposed to make their break-up "worth it." Since she'd gotten on the train, he'd been trying to bury the pain. He didn't want feel it or unleash it. In truth, he was afraid of it. There was nothing worthwhile about the pain cutting him up inside. There was nothing redeeming about the endless sense of loss and devastation he felt. He was drowning in a cold, blinding darkness, so lost in his despair, he couldn't figure out how to break the surface and save himself. He was numb, oblivious to everything around him. The only way he'd gotten through the last six months was by functioning on autopilot. He'd gone through this once and, though he had yet to admit it, he was terrified of what was happening to him now.


	13. New Beginnings

A/N: I've resurfaced after months of nothing and, well, yeah, sorry about that. The second season just drained all of my inspiration for my WIPs. And, while I'm talking about my WIPs, I'm discontinuing _Through the Years_ and _The Space Between_. Now for anyone following those two stories, I'm really sorry. _Through the Years_ was more for me than it was for you all and I never really knew where I was going with _The Space Between_ in the first place. I do intend to write an epilogue to _Space_though. As soon as I figure out what I want to say. Which will take awhile because I am really busy right now and I haven't been in the proper head space for that fic in a long time.

But this story hasn't died. It soldiers on. And now the next chapter. Alexandri

* * *

Adam's pace slowed as he walked down the unfamiliar hallway to his unfamiliar dorm room. Emotion jumbled inside him—he was eager to start over again with a new roommate and a whole new set of circumstances, yet he was afraid that his new roommate would be another Corey and that he'd fall in the "bizarro" Adam trap again. He and Joan may have broken up but he didn't want to do anything that would disappoint her.

He came to a stop in front of room 336. The door to his new dorm room (a quick glance at his housing letter confirmed this) was slightly ajar and he pushed it all the way open with one finger. "Uh, hello?" Adam said. "Anyone home?" He walked in, stopping in his tracks.

One entire wall was dominated by a rather large bookshelf unit. Only instead of books, the shelves held record albums and CDs. Adam was sure he'd never seen so many CDs in one place outside of a record store. In one corner of the room was an enormous stereo with two turntables and large speakers. Absently setting his bag on the nearest bed, he walked over to examine the CDs. Apparently, there was no rhyme or reason to the organization, 50 Cent was housed next to John Legend who was next to the Beatles who was next to Pink Floyd.

Running awestruck fingers over the record sleeves, Adam scanned the decorated side of the room. He received his second shock in less than five minutes. The walls were covered with pictures but, unlike Corey who'd hung images of busty, animated dominatrices in tiny straps of leather, his new roommate had a montage of musicians on the wall. Gorgeous posters of Billie Holiday and Miles Davis' _Kind of Blue_ mingled with They Might Be Giants, the Carpenters, and Janet Jackson in her _Velvet Rope_ phase among others. His new roommate certainly had eclectic taste.

"You must be Adam," called a voice from the doorway. Adam glanced up to find a skinny tall guy with warm brown skin and wire frame glasses. "I'm Rodney Taylor."

"Hey, Rodney," he said, walking over and sticking out his hand. Rodney's handshake was firm but relaxed. "It's nice to meet you."

"Same here," Rodney replied, smile on his face. He tossed a small bag on his bed and pointed at Adam's side of the room. "I think it should be clean over there. I checked but my last roommate was a slob so I may have missed something. Where's the rest of your stuff? I'll help you bring it up."

It took the two forty-five minutes to get Adam's few belongings into the dorm. Even though the dorm wasn't even twenty-five percent full, the students who were in residence were busy and subsequently tying up the elevator. After they'd gotten the last of his things stowed into some semblance of order, they collapsed on their beds and silently regarded each other.

"So how long have you been collecting?" Adam asked finally, pointing toward the bookshelf. He didn't get a creepy or high-maintenance vibe from Rodney, but the guy clearly wasn't much of a talker.

"Seems like forever," Rodney said easily, stretching his long frame out on the bed and folding his hands behind his head. "My dad and grandpa are both musicians and my mom has been singing in the church almost all her life so I've always been surrounded by music." A nostalgic, mischievous grin spread across Rodney's mouth. "My uncle has a record store and he gave me a job when I was fifteen. Thirty percent discount on anything in the store and I could order anything I wanted. I think I bought a third of my collection over the next three years."

Adam glanced at the wall unit again. He still hadn't gotten used to the sheer volume of CDs. "It's impressive."

"Most of it is at my parents'." Rodney waved his hand in the general direction of the wall unit, completely oblivious to Adam's gaping mouth. "You can listen to anything you want. Just make sure you put it back where you got it. I have a system."

"Yeah, his system is wherever he happens to shove it back in," came another voice. The guys jerked upright to find a tall, buxom, mocha-skinned woman framed in the doorway. "I'm Katrina," she said, sweeping into the room like she owned the place, "but call me Kat. I live a few doors down."

"Adam," he replied, shaking her hand.

"So I heard." Assessing eyes swept over him and it was an effort not to squirm under her gaze. "Don't worry," she said, a soft, Southern accent warming her voice. "Rodney's real easy to get along with and I'm..."

"A natural born grandmother," Rodney supplied. "She'll constantly force food on you. Don't know where she gets it all from but I swear she feeds half our floor."

"Just 'cause your scrawny ass can't cook..."

"Why should I when I can just come to you for Sunday dinner on a Wednesday night?"

"Remember that the next time I make cobbler and you don't get any."

"You wouldn't," Rodney said, looking appalled.

"Try me."

Rodney gaped at her. Adam watched the two, torn between discomfort and amusement. He didn't know anything about their relationship, though, and decided he'd be better off keeping his mouth shut.

A knock on the door interrupted Kat and Rodney's silent staring match. Adam looked up to find a blond girl standing in the doorway. She looked vaguely familiar, but for some reason he was unable to place her. "I knew you said you'd be back today," she said with a grin and suddenly it clicked in place.

"Caitlin?" he asked incredulously. The last time he actually saw her, she had waist-length black hair, lots of eyeliner, and wore an odd assortment of chains and leather. This girl, though, was tanned with bouncy, chin-length curls. With her skin makeup-free and wearing khakis and a pink (!) sweater beneath her wool overcoat, Adam was surprised he'd recognized her at all.

"I look a little different, huh?" she said, coming in and hugging him.

"Just a little, yeah," he agreed, returning her embrace. Aware of Kat and Rodney shooting questioning glances at them, he released Caitlin and introduced everyone.

Once everyone was settled—Rodney on his bed, Kat in his desk chair with her feet propped on his bed, Adam cross-legged on the floor beside his bed, and Caitlin leaning against his headboard—Caitlin gave him a thorough once-over. More by habit than anything else, Adam drew his knees to his chin. Smirking, Caitlin reached out and ruffled his hair. "You're looking better, but who comes back from Italy as pale and skinny as you? I say, we order in. Wings, anybody?"

* * *

"Mmmm," Grace murmured, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow as Ben pressed nibbling kisses along the length of her neck. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, gently caressing her side. She gripped his shirt in her hands, tugging him closer as he licked the sensitive spot below her ear. "Want you now," he whispered roughly, nudging her back onto the sofa.

_Yes_, her mind shouted but something resisted. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him. Why was she resisting again?

"Ow!" The shout sounded through the apartment. "Shit! Dammit."

Sucking in a gulp of air, Grace thrust Ben off of her. "We can't."

Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Right. Sorry." He scooted to the other end of the sofa.

After the night they'd first been intimate with each other, the night Joan had held back tears at the sight of them cuddling, Grace and Ben had been trying not to flaunt their relationship in her face. Since Joan was currently bumbling around her room, they couldn't get caught up kissing. Though Ben did do this thing with his tongue while sucking her lip that was just entirely too sexy for words.

"I'm going to see what Joan's up to," Grace announced as she scrambled off the sofa. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and straightened her clothes, pausing to knock before opening Joan's door. "Are you all right?" she asked slowly as she took in the scene.

Clothes were strewn about the room, most from Joan's luggage. She'd only come back from Arcadia the day before and hadn't fully unpacked. The rest spilled out of her closet and dresser. Joan stood in front of her mirror rubbing her eye, an eyeliner pencil trapped securely between her fingers. "It's nothing, Grace. I just poked myself in the eye."

"And cursed about it," Grace pointed out as she sat on the edge of her friend's bed. "You don't do that that much."

"Yeah, well, it hurt," she joked. Blinking experimentally, Joan gave Grace a smile meant to reassure but which failed miserably. "I'm just a little, well, irritable. Really, I'm okay."

Grace wanted to press the issue, but post-Adam Joan was even pricklier than Grace herself and she just didn't have the energy to fight with her roommate. Especially with Ben patiently waiting in the living room so they could go back to their kissing. "Where are you going?"

Joan stiffened defensively and Grace knew what that meant. "Eric and I are going to a party."

"You have your cell phone?"

Frowning, Joan paused and stared at Grace in the mirror. "Yes."

"And money?"

"Why are you asking me all this?"

"Because you don't want to talk to me about what's going on with you," Grace said evenly. "If you're going to go out and possibly do something stupid, I want to know you can call me or catch a cab."

"Thanks for your faith in me," Joan groused. "It's really heartwarming."

Grace shrugged as she got to her feet. "Just be careful tonight."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"Nothing," Grace answered honestly, "but it doesn't hurt to be prepared." Before Joan could respond, she left.

"Is she all right?" Ben asked as Grace reached for his hand and tugged him to his feet.

"Yeah, just poked herself in the eye getting ready for her date." Grace turned and led him down the hall toward her bedroom.

"Date?"

"Eric."

"Oh." Only the knowledge that Ben was still concerned about Joan kept Grace from being disgruntled by the disappointment she heard in his voice.

"She's a big girl, remember?" she reminded as much for her sake as for his. She closed her bedroom door behind them. "She can take care of herself."

Ben draped his arms around Grace's waist and brushed his lips over her forehead. "You can't tell me you aren't worried about her."

"Of course, I am. But I can't do anything if she doesn't want my help. And she doesn't." Ben's arms tightened around her and she couldn't help smiling a little. When had they gotten so close that she trusted him with her worries and vulnerabilities? As he pressed another kiss to her forehead, she decided that she'd enjoy the moment especially since he hadn't suggested they follow Joan to protect her from herself.

After a long moment, Ben leaned back and peered down into her face. "Perhaps we could do something to cheer you up," he proposed, pulling back to take her hands and guide her to the bed. "Nothing too graphic, scout's honor." Huge grin lighting his face, he held up the traditional two-finger salute.

Willfully tamping down her worry over Joan, Grace rolled her eyes and playfully scowled at her boyfriend. "You better be kidding."

* * *

Maybe he shouldn't have let her have that last beer. Eric watched, torn between bemusement and lust, as Joan danced and sang along with Gwen Stefani's _Hollaback Girl_. Her innate clumsiness was more pronounced after a margarita and four beers, but she still mesmerized him. And she happened to have a really good voice.

"Let me hear you say this stuff is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S," Joan sang loudly. "This stuff is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S."

Shaking his head, Eric eased into the crowd until he stood behind her. He laid his hand on the small of her back. "Joan, maybe we should ..."

"Eric!" She spun into him and threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me, Eric."

"Maybe some other time," he said, trying to pry her arms from around his neck. He finally had her willing and in his arms and he was trying to push her away. Sometimes he marveled at the things he did for the sake of this relationship.

"No, now." She pressed against him; he gritted his teeth in an attempt to distract himself. "Dance with me now, Eric."

"Joan," he tried again, but she'd laid her head on his shoulder. Knowing he should stand firm, Eric put his arms around her and swayed with her as she purred the lyrics of a new, slower song in his ear.

"Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to lose."

Eric rested his cheek against Joan's, savoring the moment despite his misgivings. He'd never seen Joan drunk before and, while he was glad that she wasn't a wild drunk, he felt awful for letting this happen. When he'd picked her up earlier, he'd noticed the deadened look she'd had all the previous semester wasn't as noticeable. She'd seemed happier and he'd thought things had improved over winter break. Now he wasn't so sure. But, as he danced with her, he figured it wouldn't hurt anything if he pretended for a few minutes.

"There's something about you now I can't quite figure out," Joan sang softly.

"We should leave after this song, all right?" he whispered in her ear.

"Do we have to?"

Biting back his smile at her childish whine, Eric nodded. "Yes, we do." He felt her shoulders slump and knew she was pouting. "It's for the best."

"All right."

The song was over too soon. Eric stoically ignored Joan's protests. Before long, he'd tucked Joan in the front passenger seat of his black Lexus convertible and was cruising through town with the windows down. Maybe a little air would sober her up a bit.

"That was fun," she sighed. "Wasn't that fun?"

"It had its moments."

"Adam and I danced on my front lawn once," she said, closing her eyes as she rested her head on the seat. She missed the pained expression that flashed across his face. "Luke and I'd thrown a party and I wouldn't kiss him even though we had in the feathers a few days before and he got mad and left."

"Luke?" he asked, wondering what kissing this Luke person had to do with dancing with Adam.

"Adam."

"But I thought you kissed Luke," he said slowly.

"Eww." She turned reproachful eyes on him. "Luke's my baby brother."

"Oh. So you kissed Adam in the feathers but wouldn't kiss him at your party." Though he wasn't the guy's biggest fan, he couldn't help sympathizing with him.

"Right. I wasn't ready so I had to re-create everything." She sighed again. "Didn't help much. Re-created us right into Baby Voice."

Eric decided he wouldn't even try to decipher that statement.

"He always smells like spring. Not flowery but like growth and sun and potential. Funny that. He was so dead at first. Animated, sweet, beautiful, but dead. He told me once I smell like fall. Loves fall. Don't know why. The worst things seem to happen in the fall."

She quieted, turning toward her open window. Eric kept his eyes on the road. As much as he didn't want to hear it, he sensed she needed to tell him this. Maybe not tell _him_ so much as remember so she could move on. So he continued driving and waited for her to speak again.

"He was jealous of you. Asked if I was sleeping with you." His mouth fell open, but forced himself not to say anything. "I don't think he really thought I was, though. I think maybe he thought I wanted to. Said I knew you liked me and was flattered. He was right, I think. I am flattered. He's been the only one I've seen in so long. It's nice to know someone else can see me." Her head whipped toward him. "You do see me, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

"That night on the lawn, he opened his arms and wrapped them around me and I could smell his spring smell under the fall air. I knew then but I was scared. It didn't make sense. We were only sixteen."

Even he knew it would be a mistake to ask, Eric did it anything. "You knew what?"

"Adam, he felt right, like he fit me perfectly. Like Arcadia, like home. Now he's gone."

Eric didn't know what to say to that. He was pretty sure this was the end of any hope he had that Joan might one day return his feelings. Adam, it seemed, was her great love and it appeared that she wasn't going to get over him any time in the near future, if ever. Struggling to keep his disappointment out of his voice, he said softly, "Ready to go home?"

She didn't answer immediately. He thought perhaps she hadn't heard him. He'd just opened his mouth when she said, "Can I stay at your place tonight? Grace and Ben probably want to be alone."

He turned the car toward his apartment.

* * *

"What's the deal with you and Caitlin?" Rodney asked.

Adam glanced up from hanging some artsy poster of something Rodney had never seen before. It was a series of swirls, of blue sky and green water with a yellow boat in the center. "What?" he asked distractedly.

"You…and Caitlin? What's the deal?" Rodney paused, debating whether or not to pry. Generally, Rodney avoided prodding. His personal philosophy was to 'leave people be,' but he was going to share a room with Adam for five months and he thought it would be best if they could be friends. Besides, he wanted to know now if Caitlin was going to be a recurring fixture in their room. "Are you guys hanging out or 'hanging out?'"

"We're just friends," Adam replied, turning his attention to his poster.

"You two don't act like 'just friends.'"

"And you and Kat act like an old, married couple. Are you guys 'hanging out?'" Adam used his hands to put air quotes around hanging out for emphasis.

A faint blush crept into Rodney's cheeks and he fiddled with his eyeglasses. This was not something he was comfortable talking about. His relationship with Kat was ... complicated. It had been since he met her back in September. "Kat and I are just friends."

Adam turned around and leaned against the wall beside his poster. For a long moment, he studied Rodney and it took all of Rodney's self-control not to fidget under the scrutiny. "But you wish it could be more," Adam said finally, an understanding smile on his face.

Rodney shrugged. "Never gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"Because Kat thinks I'm some pet project for her to improve!" he snapped. He stood and pretended to straighten his CDs, not that he saw any of them. It was the one thing he really hated about his relationship with Kat. She had this way of making him feel like he was in high school again. There were times when he could swear she was on the verge of patting him on the head and giving him a cookie for being a good little boy. He was pretty sure the only stopping her from doing just that was the fact that he was taller than her.

Rodney was so engrossed in his resentment that he'd almost forgotten Adam was still in the room. He started when Adam said softly, "I'll make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"If you ask Kat out," Adam began slowly, "I'll ask Caitlin out."

Rodney blinked. He wasn't sure he heard his roommate correctly. "I thought you were just friends."

Adam shrugged. "There's something more than friendship there," he admitted, looking markedly uneasy by the admission.

Rodney stared hard to several minutes. He knew there was more going on than Adam was telling him. He wondered what can of worms this deal would open for both of them. The whole thing sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. That would definitely be the case if this were a movie. Or maybe this was something they both needed. Maybe he should approach the whole thing with an optimistic attitude. Walking over to his new, mysterious roommate, he held out his hand and waited for Adam to grasp it before saying firmly, "Deal."


End file.
